Divine Intervention
by Priestess Theophania
Summary: 11/23/14: Chapter 28 is up! The world has changed and so too have the Greek gods. With the unlikely choice of a mortal therapist to help them, perhaps things can start to change for the better. Not slash. T language.
1. The Warning

A/N: Added a better intro. :) Hope you guys like it! Please review and let me know if this was better than the last one, which merely included the phone call scene. :)

Chapter 1 – The Warning

"This is the final warning. It cannot go on for another hundred years…" the old woman shifted her gnarled hands into the folds of her black robes and eyed the man before her.

He sat on a throne of solid gold and it gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the canopy above them. She stuck to the shadows, preferring the darkness it afforded.

"We're doing what we can…" he began.

"It's not enough!" she snapped. "Every year that goes by brings us closer to the prophecy. It has been well over two-thousand years! How much longer do you think this can go on for?"

His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring with barely concealed anger, but he said nothing against her.

"You know we speak the truth."

The man inclined his head, white curls spilling over his brow. "I do…and I am just as concerned as all of you. But we are doing what we can. The last attempt ended horribly."

"We saw," she said without compassion. "And so we come bearing a new lead."

"Another one?" the man sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"This may very well be our last chance."

She waited for him to wave her forward. He did. The woman moved deftly through the shadows, keeping out of the patches of sunlight on the floor. She proffered an ornate bowl full of dark water, which had suddenly appeared in her aged and wrinkled hands. The enthroned being took it from her, handling it reverently.

He eyed the image within the swirling inky depths. "Interesting choice… Why this one in particular?"

Two elder women in identical black robes melted away from the shadows, materializing before the seated man. All three crones answered as one:

"Because we said so."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Well, first you copy and paste the login and password and…uh… No, I said 'copy and paste.'" I tried to avoid sighing directly into the mouth piece of the headset I was forced to wear at work.

"'Copy and paste.' Like, 'control' 'c' and then 'control' 'v'…" Forced to wear it because the only other option was cradling the phone between my shoulder and my ear, which caused an unbearable crick in one's neck.

"Okay…you need to highlight the text you want first. No…don't double click, please. Left click and then drag to the right." And after doing that for a year straight, I had finally embraced the headset of tools. And felt ever like the tool for it.

"Now right click the highlighted section. Yes, right on the black part." Even then it wasn't all that comfortable. It rested right where your jaw joint met by your ear, applying just enough pressure to give you a migraine by the end of the day.

"The black part went away? Then you need to highlight it again… Do you remember how we did that last time?" Speaking of migraines…

"You see the drop down menu? Okay good. Now scroll down…scroll…yeah. Click on 'copy.' Yep. And then click in the login field. That blank box. And yeah, right click again…and select 'paste.' You got it!"

I was Tech Support personified. I didn't even get angry anymore when people were unreasonable...or started cursing at me for something I couldn't control…like them screwing up their own computers…

"Don't worry. A lot of people ask about copying and pasting." False sympathy.

"Thank you for calling and have a great day!" You should not be allowed within five feet of a computer...or allowed to reproduce.

Glancing at the clock, I logged out of the calling queue and tore my headset off, tossing it onto my desk. My last call of the day. It had been a doozy. I clicked on the application that would allow me to clock out when I noticed a new email in Outlook. It was from Human Resources.

Oh jeez…what now? Did they screw up my paycheck again? I groaned inwardly. HR had been hiring new people faster than it had time to train them. The past five paychecks had all kinds of errors.

I clicked on the email and skimmed it. Something about needing to meet with me tomorrow morning. No details... Why did they do that? It's like they did it on purpose… Sending a vague, ominous email right before you leave for the day so all you do is worry about it all night. At least that's what those emails did to me.

And that's exactly what this one did to me that night…


	2. A Therapist is Born

A/N: Questions? Comments? Concerns? Compliments? :D Please review at the bottom!

Chapter 2 – A Therapist is Born

The next day at work I was mindlessly leafing through the pages on Career Helpers Plus. I work for a mental health treatment center and had already checked out our website, but there were no job openings for a post-graduate, pre-licensed therapist…which is actually what I am…just minus the whole relevant-job-in-my-field part… Unless I was bilingual or willing to work really crappy hours with no pay, I was pretty much stuck in our Tech Support department indefinitely. I sighed heavily. I thought things were supposed to get better after you got your degree. That's what everyone told you while you were slaving away in class. But I have been six months out of school and at this rate my student loans would kick in and I wouldn't have the fancy job I'd dreamed of having to pay them off…

An ominous shadow fell across my desk when a man I had never seen before managed to sneak up on me during my gloom and doom fest.

"That's a good way to get fired."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Whoa!"

I spun around in my chair and glared daggers at the intruder standing outside of my cubicle before checking my expression. I forced it into something I hoped looked a lot more neutral. The guy looked a little embarrassed, but easily regained his composure.

"Um…" was all I managed before I got a good look at him. His eyes were an intense shade of gray and I found it oddly difficult to look away once he met my gaze. He held my stare until it became obvious that he wasn't going to break eye contact first. I was starting to squirm in my chair when my phone blared to life with the best possible timing. Its shrill ring broke the silence like the fist of some angry god and allowed me a chance to tear my eyes away from his for a second, switch myself to idle, and then take in the rest of this guy. He had long black hair, tied back from what I could see at my desk, impossibly pale skin, and he was wearing what appeared to be a very expensive black suit. He looked impressive.

Oh holy crap…did I just get busted by a VP?

My eyes flicked back up to his face and I found myself locked in his intense stare again. As if he could read my thoughts, he smirked. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

That smirk did little to quell my rising panic and I felt my heart begin to pound as I noticed two more people heading in our direction. Two men approached the one with whom I was trying to avoid eye contact. One of them had kind blue eyes, lightly tanned skin, and a neatly-trimmed white goatee. In stark contrast to the first man to approach me, he was wearing a simple white button down that matched his spiked hair and faded jeans. His loafers looked well-worn and he exuded an air of someone who was very comfortable in his own skin. The third to join us had deep green eyes and his heavily tanned skin and frizzy brown hair gave the impression that this was a guy who spent a lot of time outdoors. The pooka shell necklace he wore betrayed the fact that he would have probably rather been at the beach than here at work…as did his clear discomfort with the blue collared shirt and brown slacks he was sporting. He kept fidgeting, making his brand new, black dress shoes creak as he shifted his weight subtly from foot to foot.

I forced myself to crack a smile at all of them, digging my fingernails into my sweaty palms secretly. "Hi… I don't believe I've met any of you before."

"You haven't," the man in the suit stated simply.

I gave him a blank look when the man with the white goatee stepped in. "Andrea, we're new in Human Resources and were wondering if we could talk to you for a bit."

My eyes widened and I looked toward my manager's office helplessly. "I'm sure it'd be fine, I just need to make sure my manager has enough coverage on phones…"

"We talked to him. It's all good." The beach bum smiled.

I took my headset off and stood up. "Okay cool. So, where to?"

The man in the jeans beamed. "This way! Oh and I'm Zach, by the way. Horrible at introductions, sorry." His smile turned sheepish. Then he pointed at the suit. "That's Hank." Next, the surfer dude. "And that's Paul."

"Nice to meet all of you," I replied and followed them to a small meeting room on the other side of the building. Zach closed the door behind us as Hank and Paul took seats around a small table in the middle of the room. I remained standing awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. When Paul gestured for me to sit across from him, I nodded appreciatively and took a seat. Zach joined us soon after, holding a file I could have sworn he hadn't been holding just a moment ago.

"So, we've been looking through everyone's files since we were hired on, trying to get to know all of the employees in the company, and found something interesting in yours… You have a Master's degree in counseling?"

I nodded, not sure where this was going, but suddenly feeling really ill.

"You know, Hank is a counselor," Zach offered.

I turned toward Hank, trying to look at his forehead instead of those intense eyes. "Really? What kind?"

"Grief counselor."

Somehow I could see that. "What are you doing here then?"

I heard Paul chuckle and realized that my question had probably came out more blunt than I had intended. Hank didn't seem to notice or care.

"I mean in HR, specifically," I clarified.

"As I'm sure you are well aware, the economy hasn't exactly been profitable for mental health counselors, especially private practitioners. So, here I am."

"Yeah…I hear that…" I said stupidly without thinking. If they were looking to fire me for having an interest in other jobs, I was only building the case against me…

"That's what you're looking for, isn't it?" Hank continued. "A job in your field?"

My eyes widened in alarm and I actually dared to look at him directly. He said he wouldn't tell anyone!

"Don't worry, Andrea. You're not in trouble," Zach added quickly. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together when we see a freshly graduated Master's level counselor in Tech Support."

"No one ever noticed before…" I grumbled miserably.

"We're not going to fire you," he continued. "In fact, there might be an opening for you in the Psych Department."

I looked up at him, searching his sky blue eyes. Was he playing some kind of cruel joke? I had just checked the website. There was nothing posted!

He must have seen the anger and frustration flare in my eyes. "Due to some recent developments we thought it best to have another therapist on hand, and since you already work for us, a department transfer would be much simpler than interviewing strangers and hoping to find someone who will fit."

I sat back in my chair as I realized my dream was about to come true. It was all happening so fast… I felt a little faint and touched my forehead absentmindedly to ensure I wasn't running a fever.

Hank cleared his throat awkwardly. I glanced in his direction, but addressed Zach instead. "What about him? I mean, I'm not even licensed…"

Mr. Suit leveled that stony gaze at me again and I looked away, fidgeting with a string that had come loose on my sleeve.

"Hank is too busy with his other job to take on this one by himself. What he can provide is the supervision that you will need until you are ready to get your license."

I stopped fidgeting and looked at Zach like he'd just kicked me in the face. "Uh… You sure about that?"

Paul smirked at Hank. "Looks like she doesn't want to work with you."

The suit glowered at the other man. "Go figure."

I leaned forward suddenly, desperate not to lose my chance. "No no no! I mean…I…well, I dunno. I just get the impression that you, Hank, don't like me very much… Would that be conducive to a good supervisor-therapist relationship?"

Zach smiled. "Very by the book. I like that."

"I don't. She thinks too much," was Hank's reply, as if I wasn't sitting right there. When he turned back to face me, I almost regretted that thought. It was definitely much more comfortable talking to Hank when he wasn't looking right into my soul. That's what it felt like anyway… "You think too much. Do you honestly have any better options right now?"

I looked at the table, pouting. "No…not really…"

"Textbook knowledge will be of little help with the clientele you will be seeing, anyway. So, do you want the job or not?" There was a finality to his question that made me think that this offer would not be made twice.

I glanced up at Hank. "I do! I do! But…who will I be seeing exactly…?"

I watched as the three of them exchanged unreadable looks. It looked like Zach was going to say something when Hank spoke first.

"I'll explain along the way. In the meantime, let's get you set up with an office next to mine." He looked at Paul expectantly.

"Oh! Yes! That would be my job, wouldn't it?" the frizzy haired man chuckled. "I'll get the furniture moved and bring in a spare computer. Zach, can you call IT to set it up?"

Zach frowned. "You know, I could do it myself…"

Both Paul and Hank suddenly shouted "NO!" in creepy unison. The exclamation echoed off of the walls of the small meeting room and Paul shook his head. "No…you have a horrible track record of frying motherboards."

I raised an eyebrow at Zach, but he just shrugged. "Alright, I'll call them. I'll get stuff set up on my end too. There's going to be paperwork involved in the department transfer."

He didn't say anything about a difference in pay, but I was steered out of the meeting room by Paul and Hank before I could think to ask.


	3. Adventures in Tedium

A/N: Here's the latest! You'll get to know one of the characters a bit better in this chapter. Hope you like it! R&R, it keeps me inspired. :)

Chapter 3 – Adventures in Tedium

I was sent back to my desk after that with a couple of cardboard boxes for my personal items. Once I had gathered everything and checked that all of my drawers were empty for the millionth time, I realized I had no idea where Hank's office was. So, I took my time saying goodbye to my department coworkers and then popped in to see my manager.

"So, they snapped you up, huh?"

I frowned. "Yeah, I guess. I didn't think we had any openings in the Shrink Department."

My manager snorted in an effort to stifle a laugh. "Same here. Damn. Well, we knew this day would come sooner or later. It's good that you'll still be around the building though."

I smiled. I was really going to miss my manager. Not the work…definitely not the work, but the people in my department made all the difference. "Yeah, I'm glad for that too."

"I suspect that you'll be training all of the other therapists on simple things like copying and pasting." Seth grinned at me. "Think you can spare us from some ID-10-T calls?"

"Oh my God, I'll try!" I groaned. "I wonder if I could be a therapist and also work in TS."

He chuckled softly. "I don't think HR would be very happy paying that kind of money for one employee…"

"You're probably right," I sighed. It was time to go. "You wouldn't…uh…happen to know where Hank's office is, would you?"

My manager suddenly looked over my shoulder. "I think Hank can tell you."

I turned around and nearly slammed face-first into Mr. Suit's chest. "Gah! Er… Hi! I…uh…was just coming to look for you." I took a step back, since he didn't seem like he was going to make space.

"This way," he stated simply, and started walking off toward said office.

I gave my manager one last look, shrugged, and then waved goodbye. Hank walked briskly and I had to struggle to keep up without spilling the contents of my boxes. When we were about to round the corner past the mail room, he stopped suddenly.

"Here. I can take one of those." He turned and made to reach for one. I let him take the box without protesting and then noticed his expression as he got a look at what was inside. "You…have a lot of toys in here."

I grinned at him and he quirked an eyebrow in response. "Do you like the mini robot?"

He didn't respond to that one. He just started walking again. I bounced after him with my one remaining box until he stopped in front of what I assumed was going to be my office. I could see Paul in there moving furniture around, a spare computer sitting in a corner by itself. In another corner Zach was piling up a stack of papers that I assumed were going to require a lot of information and signatures from me later. Instead of going inside, Hank turned around silently and entered the office next to mine.

"We're not going in there?" I asked.

"No. They're busy. We can wait in here."

I didn't exactly relish the idea of being in Hank's office alone with him, but I really saw no other option. So, I followed him in.

"Shut the door," he barked, and I found myself obeying without question. Normally guys like him really ruffle my feathers, but I felt in this case it was better to do as I was told rather than risk him getting mad at me…because that might entail more of that intense eye contact.

I shut the door gently and glanced around his spacious office. Hank was seated behind a massive desk made of some dark wood that I could not identify, my box resting innocently on top. I instantly envied him the large leather chair he owned, recounting countless times where my butt had fallen asleep in the unbearably uncomfortable chairs they gave us in Tech Support. Everything was immaculate, not a paper sticking out anywhere. There were two chairs in front of his desk that were of a lesser quality wood and leather, but still pretty nice being chairs meant for his coworkers or visitors. The three file cabinets spaced around the room were also made of wood and matched the desk and chairs almost perfectly. On top of the cabinet to my left was one of those weird stacks of stones that you see in the windows of New Age hippie stores. The ones that seem to defy gravity because the huge stones are supported by impossibly small ones. Somehow I couldn't imagine Hank in a hippie store or playing with a bunch of rocks. Maybe it was a gift. I walked over to it, setting my other box down on the floor, and crouched down low. I eyed it carefully, trying to see if maybe it was glued together.

"Did you stack these?"

Hank glanced at me and then the stones. "I did."

"You didn't cheat, did you?" I grinned. "No glue…no magnets?"

His expression remained blank, betraying nothing. "No. I did not cheat." Much to my surprise, he actually got up out of his chair and walked over to where I was scrutinizing his work. "Watch out" was the only warning I got before he slapped one hand against the structure, causing it fall apart with a loud crash. I jumped back with a surprised shout.

"Gah! Why did you do that?" I lamented.

"You stack them now."

I looked up at him helplessly. "What? I suck at these things. I don't want to…"

I think he tried to smile reassuringly or something, but it just made his expression look more severe and I had to stop myself from openly cowering at his feet. "All it takes is patience."

"I'm an Aries," I tried to add helpfully.

His eyebrow quirked up again. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"We lack patience by nature."

"Nice try." He crouched down next to me and eyed the pile of rubble. "Patience is something that can be learned. Now stack the rocks."

I frowned at him. "You're totally serious, aren't you? You want me to stack these dumb things?"

"Do you have anything better to do?" he quipped.

"Yes! I can think of about a million other things I'd rather do right now than stack rocks. Some of them are even painful!"

He got up and walked back to his desk, taking a seat in his fancy chair again. "I suppose a better question would be…do you want me to sign off on your hours?"

My jaw dropped open involuntarily. He was actually going to withhold signing off on my therapy hours because I didn't want to stack stones? Somehow I could see him doing that. I glared at him and closed my mouth with an audible click before turning, grumbling, toward the stupid pile of rocks in front of me. Finding the biggest one, I laid it flat on the cabinet. Then I reached for a medium sized one and laid that on top. He never said I had to replicate what he'd done…

Hank waited until I had stacked all of the stones big to small and then walked over casually and knocked them over.

"What?" I cried, grabbing up the stones belatedly. "You did it again!"

"That's not what it looked like before and you know it."

"I don't even remember what it looked like before because you destroyed it so fast!" I was yelling at him and didn't even realize it until I noticed he was actually smiling…somewhat. "Sorry…"

"You need to be more observant. In the event that you don't remember something exactly, make a close approximation. That was crap."

"…it was a pile of rocks…" I mumbled, but went back to work trying to make a tower that was close to the one that Hank had made before.


	4. Paperwork

A/N: A bit of filler. You'll probably get the next two chapters very quickly as a result. Please let me know what you think thus far by reviewing at the bottom. :) Points if you get the rock reference… ;)

Chapter 4 – Paperwork

It seriously felt like hours had crawled by with me crouched on my new supervisor's floor when Paul burst into the room suddenly, sending the door bashing into the adjacent wall. The sudden intrusion scared me so badly out of my nearly meditative state that I bumped the cabinet. My meager structure of five rocks came crashing down.

"DAMMIT!" I shouted before I could restrain myself. I turned around a little too fast and my stiff joints popped painfully as I tried to get up. My body didn't let me get very far and I found myself sitting on the floor in an aching heap. "Ooo… That really hurt…" I picked myself up gingerly.

Paul and Hank were both staring at me.

"Graceful," was all Hank offered.

I gave him a plaintive look. "Please no more rocks today…"

Paul gave my tormenter a questioning look, but Hank merely shrugged him off.

"You can pick up where you left off tomorrow."

I was about to say something really damning when Paul intervened. "The office is all set up. Andrea, I think Zach has some paperwork for you to fill out."

Paperwork! That actually sounded tolerable by comparison! "Wahoo!" I dashed out the door before anyone could stop me.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I pushed open the door to my office and found Zach with his feet propped up on my desk. So far the room consisted of a good sized desk with some empty trays, a pencil holder full of pens, and my computer on top; one ugly metal filing cabinet on the left; a chair for me; and two chairs in front of my desk for my would-be clients. Zach smiled as I let myself in further.

"Ah, there you are! How was hanging out with Hank?"

I groaned. "Excruciating…"

Zach barked out a laugh. "That bad, huh?"

"He made me stack rocks," I pouted. Walking over, I sat down in one of the client chairs.

"That guy and stones…" Zach shook his head. "Don't think I'm crazy for saying this, but Hank knows exactly what he's doing."

I gave the man a look that clearly read that I thought he was two donuts short of a baker's dozen.

"Just wait and see," Zach winked. The skin around his eyes crinkled cheerfully.

"I think he hates me," I sighed.

Zach laughed again. "You're not the first person to think that, but just give it some time. If he hated you, he wouldn't bother being your supervisor, right?"

I considered this for a moment. "I guess that's true…"

"Don't worry too much about it. In fact, here is a nice stack of papers to keep you busy. I'm also going to need some stuff from you that you can bring in tomorrow, like your intern number, proof of insurance, and photo ID's."

I nodded and walked over to my desk. Zach got up and gestured at my computer. It was actually a pretty nice model, definitely not the same one I was used to using in TS.

"Once you're done with the paperwork, you can look through the electronic copies of the cases you will be handling. They're on the shared drive in the Psychology Department folder. You'll want to pull up 'Special Cases.' I thought that might be helpful."

I thanked him and sat down in my chair, which was a far cry from the ones in Hank's office. Zach left soon after and I grabbed the first paper from the top of the pile before me and got to work.


	5. Special Cases

A/N: Thanks to all who have reviewed the story thus far or added it to their watch list! I am pleasantly surprised by the interest and am grateful to all of you lovely readers. Things should start to pick up now. :) Character personalities should deepen and the plot complicate. Enjoy the ride and let me know how you like it!

Chapter 5 – Special Cases

After signing the last of the papers, I decided to take a break. A nice nap on top of the mountain of paperwork I had just completed.

Too bad Hank didn't believe in knocking on doors.

"That's cute," came a sarcastic bark from the doorway.

I woke with a start and realized that I had been drooling a little in my sleep. Looking up with bleary eyes, I groaned. "Hey, I clocked out for this."

"Whatever." Hank came around to my side of the desk in a few swift strides, dropping both of the boxes that I had left in his office on top without much love. "Have you taken a look at the cases you have yet?"

Peeling myself off of the pile of papers, I wiggled my mouse, bringing my computer back to life. "Not yet, no. I just finished all of these papers for Zach."

"Alright. Let's look at some of them."

So much for my break…

"The files are on the shared drive and will be in the Psychology Department folder. Pull up 'Special Cases.'" He leaned over my desk and pulled a chair around, seating himself a comfortable distance away from me. Being seated next to Hank had the added benefit of being able to avoid looking him directly in the eyes.

I located the shared drive, having used it many times before in my old department, and found the folder that he and Zach had both mentioned. It felt weird thinking of TS as my old department… "What kinds of cases are these? And please don't say 'special cases.'" I grinned at him, still a little sleepy.

"Heh, in some cases I would say they really are 'special.'"

I choked on a laugh, still eyeing him. "Did you just make a joke?"

He narrowed his eyes at me and I glanced away quickly. "Don't make me regret it."

"Of course not. I just didn't think it was humanly possible." When he didn't respond, I scrambled to open the folder. "So…special cases. Here we go."

Double-clicking the folder brought up a series of other folders within. Each had a simple labeling system: "Case" followed by a name. It didn't take me long to notice a pattern.

"These cases are all named after ancient Greek gods… That's kinda neat."

Hank snorted. "Yes…kinda neat indeed."

"So these are all of my clients then?" I asked.

"Yes, these will all eventually be handed off to you. I didn't think you'd want this many all at once, especially since some of the cases are quite…complicated. So we'll start you off with a few, simpler cases."

"Sounds good to me."

I heard something flap open to my right and turned to see Hank flipping through a file I hadn't seen him holding when he came in. Then again, I had been asleep when he had barged in unannounced… "Your department had you fill out a relevant skills survey last year and you put that you had an unpaid internship at an addiction treatment clinic?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I was actually working in the TS department as a part-timer last year so that I could put in hours at my internship and still pay the bills. I only listed it on the survey because it actually required some computer work, like maintaining electronic files, teaching other therapists how to enter data, and keeping forms up to date. Stuff like that. I thought it'd be applicable experience in TS too."

"I see." He scanned some more documents. "I take it this internship was required for your Master's program?"

"Yep."

"What types of disorders did you treat?"

I thought for a moment. "Some mood disorders…depression and anxiety… Some personality disorders too. Mostly it was drug and alcohol addictions though, being a treatment center and all that."

Something in Hank's eyes flashed when I said that and I struggled to suppress an involuntary shudder. "Pull up the case on Dionysus then."

It was either the effort of trying to hide my nervousness around Hank or the unexpected silliness of what he just said, but I exploded with laughter. "Are you serious? That's awesome! Isn't he supposed to be, like, the wine god or something from way back when?"

Hank merely smirked. "Something like that…yeah."

"You guys have a sick sense of humor. I love it." I pulled up the folder labeled "Case: Dionysus," trying to stave off a giggle fit.

His case was new and his real name was Dean. The folder only contained an intake survey, which was done a couple of days prior when he first came in. I glossed over his personal information and zeroed in on the interviewer's notes. The client was on probation for a fourth charge of Driving Under the Influence of alcohol and was court-mandated to be in the drug treatment program offered by our center. The program required a personal therapist to be assigned to Dean to work on the underlying issues of the substance problem, while the rigorous courses took care of the court requirements. The client had mentioned some feelings of sadness lately, but was not a current danger to himself or others…although I was willing to bet that four DUIs was enough to constitute danger to self and others in the future should he relapse again… He had forty-five days of sobriety under his belt and did not require detox or inpatient treatment at this time, but was willing to consider both options if his drinking became a problem again.

Hank was watching me intently and I actually did shudder this time when I looked at him. "Seems pretty clear to me."

"Do you think you can handle the case?" he purred.

I nodded confidently. "I think so. I saw this type of case a lot last year. I guess…the only thing I'd be worried about is him relapsing. I mean…God, he's only twenty-two years old and has four DUIs? His next one could mean his life or someone else's."

There must have been something really interesting on my face from the way Hank kept looking at me. "So, you'll need to be mindful of that risk. If you need to talk about him becoming a danger to himself, you can come to me about that and I will make sure that it is handled appropriately."

"Thanks. I will." I eyed the case on my computer and sighed. "That always gets to me, you know?" I felt some of the frustration from last year's internship unraveling deep inside of me and for some reason my boss seemed like the best person to talk to right now.

"What gets to you?" Hank asked with a surprisingly soft tone that wasn't edged with malice or dripping with sarcasm. It totally disarmed me.

"The young ones." I turned in my chair and dared to meet his unreadable stare. "The old ones, fine, whatever, they've been doing it all their life and chances are low that they'll give up the drugs or the booze. Somehow that's always been easier to accept. But the young ones…it just feels like they have so much more to lose…"

My unlikely supervisor actually broke eye contact first and considered his hands in his lap. "I think…you'll find this client is a bit wise beyond his years. Or at least he should be."

I gave him a funny look. "Were you there for the intake?"

"Sure," was all Hank offered.

What the heck did that mean? I didn't press him. I didn't have a chance to. He tapped my computer screen before I could open my mouth again.

"Tyche," was all he said.

I double-clicked the folder and groaned as the computer came to a screeching halt, taking its sweet time opening the case. "Some things never change… Well, hm, Tyche? Which god was that again?"

Hank choked on something, although I didn't remember him chewing gum. "God?" he croaked. "Tyche is the goddess of fortune."

I looked at him like he had a fork growing out of his forehead. "Isn't that Nike?"

"What?" His eyes widened for a second and suddenly I felt like a moron. "No… Try goddess of chance." He saw my blank look and tried again. "Providence? Fate?" he offered and sighed when I continued to sit there stupefied. "Really? Your teachers don't make you kids read the classics anymore?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You've probably been out of school a lot longer than I have. Trust me, these days? Schools are more concerned about cutting corners than providing anything of substance…and that includes good teachers. Lack of funding and all…"

He sighed heavily again. "Well, just read the intake, and you'll get the picture."

I did.

"Tyche," whose real name was listed as Tina on her intake, had a serious gambling problem.

"Figured it would be best to start you off in familiar territory."

Little did I know that the diagnoses would be the only familiar territory in my cases…


	6. Nightmares

A/N: Here's the next installment! Thanks to all who have added me and/or the story to their alerts and favorites. Don't forget to review when you're done with this chapter. :) Just click the link below!

Chapter 6 - Nightmares

I slept badly that night.

Even though I turned in earlier than usual, I was plagued by nightmares. There were no breaks in the dreams. One bled torturously into another. The first things I saw were large buildings…burning. Huge blackened columns rocked dangerously on unstable foundations before breaking loose and toppling onto the people running around them, screaming, crying, bleeding… The flames were so intense that I could almost feel them licking at my skin in the dreamscape and I found myself holding my nose to keep the worst of the smoke out of my lungs.

I wandered aimlessly, trying to avoid the destruction myself. I noticed a couple off to the side, watching the scene before them. They looked like royalty, dressed in lavish robes, not a speck of dirt or blood on them, which made them stand out in stark contrast to the people swarming in every direction. The man had an intense look of impotent rage on his handsome face, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and the woman beside him wept bitterly. I wanted to ask them for help, but the scene warped and I was enveloped in a white mist.

I batted uselessly at the fog, trying to fan it out of my way so that I could see, when suddenly I was surrounded by three short figures draped in black robes. They started poking me with sharp fingernails. Spinning around in circles helplessly, I tried to shove them away. They were making strange, oddly feminine sounds that made my whole body shake with terror. Their voices were hoarse and dry and it took me a while to realize that the awful rasping sounds were laughter…

I screamed and finally managed to break away from them, my heart hammering in my chest. Everything was still hidden by that thick mist, except now the air was starting to become hot and humid. I was forced to slow down, taking deep, steady breaths that felt like I was trying to inhale liquid oxygen and it burned in my lungs. Coughing and sputtering, I encouraged myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

There was no way to tell where I was going or even how far I had gone. All I knew was that I had to get away from those creepy women. Then I slammed into something solid.

I landed hard on ground I could not see through the fog. Scrambling to my feet as fast as I could manage, I was suddenly face-to-face with Hank. His face was twisted into an ugly snarl and he glared at a clipboard he held in one shaking hand. The metal clip was overburdened with papers, some yellow with age. I couldn't tell if my supervisor could see me or not, but I ducked when he hurled the clipboard in the direction from which I had just come with a curse I could not understand. Somewhere off in the distance, dogs where howling…

I bolted upright in my bed, sweat pouring down my face. My whole body was shaking and it took me longer than usual to reorient myself. Glancing around nervously, I found my alarm clock.

4:38AM.

I had about another hour's worth of sleep left, but I was past the point of caring. An hour wasn't worth risking those dreams continuing…so, I got out of bed and turned on all of the lights. My cat was nowhere to be seen, so I went into the bathroom to start my shower.

Glancing in the mirror, I groaned openly at the dark circles under my eyes. There were angry red veins standing out in the whites around my green irises, making me look like a zombie. Shaking my head at my reflection, I undressed quickly and tried to pull my hair tie out. It snagged and I struggled with it for a second before it came free, dropping long broken blond strands onto the bathroom floor.

With my extra hour, I was able to take my time. I sat in the bathtub and let the water from the showerhead cascade over my skin, calming my body, which had gone from shaking to merely trembling, and clearing my mind. I've had intense dreams before, but nothing on the scale of what I had just experienced. It felt like I was really there, my skin being burned by flames, my lungs aching from overly hot and humid air… What did people call those kinds of dreams? Lucid dreams?

I sighed and rested my forehead on my knees. If I hadn't just started my new position yesterday, I would have called in sick. I needed a mental health day…

Instead, I got up off of the floor of the shower and set about getting ready for work.


	7. Dream Therapy

A/N: Gah! Sorry I was gone so long, everyone! I actually had a similar experience to Andrea landing a job in my field. :) So, life got crazy for a bit, but I am back now! I hope you like the update. I will try to be more consistent about updating now that life is a little less crazy!

Chapter 7 – Dream Therapy

When Hank barged into my office later that morning, he found me staring deeply into a cup of coffee that I hadn't yet managed to bring up to my lips to drink. I had been zoning out ever since my dream last night, but noticed that he was wearing an immaculate black pin-stripped suit today.

"Andrea, do you think you can see…uh… Andrea?"

Without thinking, I glanced up at him and flashed back to the heated look that dream-Hank had had in my nightmare. Real life Hank looked oddly concerned by comparison.

"Everything alright in here?"

I looked back down at my coffee. "I had a rough night last night," I said with a sudden shudder. "Bad dreams…"

Taking me by complete surprise, my supervisor walked over to my desk and sat in one of my client seats. I felt a momentary twinge of guilt at seeing him seated in anything less than his nice office chair, but I brushed the feeling aside. "Tell me about them."

It wasn't a question or a suggestion. It was an order. I smirked. "Do you do dream therapy too?"

"Sometimes, yes," he responded. "Now tell me about your dreams."

I frowned at my coffee. "They might sound stupid now, but when I had them they felt so real. It was like I was actually physically experiencing everything around me, not just dreaming."

Hank nodded encouragingly and I took a deep breath. "I remember seeing a large building burning. People were dying horribly all around me. There was a king and a queen, I think, watching the whole thing, doing nothing. They seemed upset… I wanted to ask them for help, but then all of this fog blew up in my face and I got lost."

I gave Hank a pained look, not bothering to conceal the tremor that ran the length of my spine when I met his steel-colored eyes. "Sorry…it's kinda long. There's two more parts after that."

He inclined his head toward me. "It's fine. Continue."

"Okay… After that it was lots of mist and fog. Then these three creepy ladies in black robes appeared and started poking me and laughing at me. They were awful and I wanted to get away from them. They tried to block me, but I managed to dodge them finally. Then I ran into you."

One of Hank's black eyebrows shot up at that. "You dreamt about me?"

"Yeah… I don't think you could see me in the dream though. You looked really angry about something. I remember seeing a clipboard in your hand and you threw it over my head…in the direction where those creepy ladies were."

He looked serious for a while. "Let me think on this one. I'll get back to you."

I smiled appreciatively. Free dream analysis? Maybe Hank wouldn't be such a bad supervisor after all. "Thank you... I'm not normally this unsettled by dreams, but that one was…wow."

"Yes, I imagine it was." He coughed into a closed fist. "Now then, can you take the Dionysus case and see the client today?" Hank's tone did a complete one-eighty, switching from what had sounded like concern to detached professionalism.

Back to business it seemed.

"Yeah, definitely. Did the client call?" I asked.

Hank shook his head, his long hair falling over his shoulders. "No, but I wanted to call him with an appointment time. It's almost eleven… Why don't you take an early lunch, get your head screwed on straight, and then see him at twelve thirty."

"I think I can do that."

My new boss rose, tossing a yellow folder onto my desk. "I came here to give you his file. He needs to sign a consent form for therapy. All of the other forms were taken care of during the initial interview."

I nodded obediently. After being completely useless this morning, I was determined to make the rest of my day look much better by comparison. I didn't need Hank thinking I was a lazy therapist…or a mistake.

"There is also a hard copy of the intake in the folder," he continued. "If you need to add to it, do so and update the e-copy as well. Take notes. I'll show you how to format them later for his records."

I threw him a half-hearted salute.

He eyed me curiously. "And drink that damn coffee. You need it."

"It's cold," I whined, feeling especially helpless.

Hank sighed. "If you're going to whine like that, I might offer to give you something more substantial to whine about."

My eyes widened. "Like…stacking rocks?"

The grin that spread across his corpse-white face was the most terrifying thing that I had ever seen…next to the creepy women in my nightmares last night. "Like stacking rocks."

I stopped whining.


	8. Dismemberment

A/N: Alright! Back on track with weekly updates! For you loyal readers, today is the day you get more text to read, but for M. Bison? It was Tuesday. Points if you get the reference. Please review after you read. :)

Chapter 8 – Dismemberment

After my talk with Hank, I felt a bit better. Disclosing my dreams to him had felt like unloading a burden that he was now handling and would later give back to me, possibly with a really neat interpretation. In exchange, I listened to what Hank had said about taking my lunch earlier than usual and trying to calm down. After grabbing a burger from McDonald's, I decided to take a nap in my car for the rest of my break. For a mercy there were no nightmares. I didn't dream at all and woke up feeling a little more refreshed.

I was reading through the intake for the third time, trying to memorize everything I needed to know about the Dionysus case, when a knock sounded on my door. Checking that my room was in order, I got up and walked over to let in my new client. The man standing outside of my office had wavy brown hair tied up in a small bun and tan skin. His eyes were a darker shade of brown, set in a handsome, youthful face, and his clothes were neat and clean. At the very least, my addicted client was looking much better than I had expected.

"Hi Dean, I'm Andrea. Why don't you come on in?" I offered him a warm smile and watched him return it with a shy one of his own.

I walked over to my desk and sat down, indicating that Dean could sit wherever he pleased. He eyed his surroundings with interest. "It's so bare. No decorations?"

Flushing slightly, I offered him an apologetic look. "I know… I just got this office yesterday, so it looks really boring. It should be much better in a couple of days."

"You're new?" he asked. I expected him to sound irritated or upset, like some of my clients had in the past when I was new at my last internship, but he merely sounded curious.

"I am, but I do have experience from another clinic."

He nodded, still looking around the room, but he didn't say anything in response.

"If that makes you uncomfortable…I can ask my supervisor to find you a different therapist," I suggested. Dean's mental health was my top priority, but dammit if I loathed the thought of referring him to someone else…

He shook his head, a tendril of wavy hair coming loose from his bun. "Nah, I think you'll be fine."

I smiled at him, feeling immense relief wash over me. The last thing I wanted to do was tell Hank that my first client had rejected me for being a newbie. "And you're okay with the fact that I have a supervisor? I'm not licensed yet, so there might be times where I need to ask for his advice, but what you say here would never go beyond him…unless you are a danger to yourself or other people."

"That dude who called me a couple hours ago is your supervisor?" Dean inquired.

I nodded.

"Should be fine. And I'm not feeling especially suicidal or homicidal today, so that shouldn't be a problem either." He grinned broadly.

"Today…?" I asked, startled.

Dean laughed. "I haven't had those feelings in a long time."

Not quite convinced, I grabbed his file and a pen and stammered, "W-when did you last have those feelings?" I sounded awkward and rusty…even to me.

"Many many years ago, Andrea. Like, I can hardly remember how old I was." Dean winked.

"Okay." I relaxed. "So nothing recent then?"

The man shook his head again, still grinning.

I smiled reassuringly and jotted down 'History of feelings of hurting self and others. Not for many years. No current danger to self or others' on a blank sheet of paper that Hank had helpfully tucked in right behind the intake. "Just wanted to be sure you're safe."

"Of course. It's cool," he reassured me.

Then I noticed that my client was still standing.

"Did you want to take a seat, Dean? I have a consent form that you'll need to fill out before we can get started here…" I reached into his file to pull out the paper. Hank had stuck a post-it note on it, making the form easy to locate. That guy really thought of everything...or suffered from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Somehow I could see either theory being true.

Dean cocked his head to the right. "Are you really going to sit behind the desk?"

I blanched, not expecting that response. "Is the desk bothering you?"

He gave me a wry smile. "It just seems so…formal and impersonal."

Okay, I could work with this. "You're right. It is. I have an idea." I passed the form across the desk to him and got up to move around to where my client was standing. Like an idiot, I tripped over my boxes of toys, which I had shoved under my desk to keep them out of sight. I caught myself before I fell to the floor. "Aw jeez…"

"You okay?" the young man gasped. "What was that?"

"I'm fine, thanks…" I rubbed my ankle. "And that would be me tripping over my boxes from my old cubicle. They have some of the stuff I'll be putting up later, like posters, toys—"

Dean's eyes lit up, as he reached for a pen on my desk. "Toys?"

I nodded.

"May I see them?" he asked shyly.

Not seeing any harm in it, I grabbed a box and dropped it on top of my desk. "Help yourself."

Then I moved over to where he was standing and began arranging the two client chairs so that they would be facing each other at a comfortable distance. Dean nearly dove into the cardboard box, grabbing up the tiny robot and a ceramic bobble head ninja. He held them up triumphantly.

"Awesome!"

I couldn't help laughing at his childlike amusement. "I'm glad you like them."

He plopped down on the chair closest to him, a toy in each hand. "Oh yeah, these are great! I never had toys like these growing up..."

I figured that was a good place to start. "Really? No neat toys?"

Dean looked despondently at the robot. "No… I had a pretty rough childhood."

I watched as he abruptly set the toys down on my desk and turned to the consent form. He started filling it out, making an obvious effort to avoid the topic that had inadvertently come up.

"Do you feel like talking about it?" I ventured and leaned forward in my chair, figuring he wouldn't have mentioned his childhood if he didn't want to talk about it…at least subconsciously…

"Not really, but that's what the judge says I have to do…so I guess I have to at some point."

I didn't say anything for a while, letting the silence stretch until Dean turned and looked at me questioningly. "Dean, I understand that you're here because the court requires it, but we can go at your own pace in therapy. As long as you go to all of your classes, pass all of your drug tests, and we make progress in here, you'll get good letters to take to your probation officer and the judge."

His face brightened at that. "That would be really cool. You seem nice and I don't mean to be all closed off…it's just that most people don't understand what I went through. I'm gun-shy is all."

I nodded sympathetically. "That makes sense to me. If childhood is too much for a first session, we can just focus on the consent form and brainstorm ways to maintain your great streak of sobriety. You're almost at two months!"

Dean's smile broadened. "Yeah, I am, huh? Kinda sad, but that's actually pretty good for me."

I tried to mimic his smile in an effort to increase his level of comfort. "Not sad at all. That's a great achievement, actually. So, if you want, we can come back to the childhood stuff and focus on sobriety for today. I'd rather not scare you off."

My client chuckled. He signed the consent form and then put his pen down, returning his full attention to me. I watched him as he considered something in silence for a few moments, his gaze turning into a million mile stare. Trying not to fidget with anticipation, I wondered what exactly my client was thinking about…

Eventually Dean's eyes came back into focus. He took a deep breath in and sighed heavily. "Okay, I think I want to talk about one thing that happened when I was a kid, otherwise my whole life won't make much sense to you."

I eyed him in turn. "As long as you're comfortable with that, I would love to hear what you have to say."

He nodded in agreement. "Alright…okay…so…one of my very first memories as a child was being dismembered."

My jaw dropped open and my heart started pounding. "Um…" I paused and collected my thoughts before continuing. "Dean, did you just say that you were 'dismembered' as a child?"

My young client nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"Do you know what that word means?" I didn't want him to feel stupid, but dismembered? Really? He had to be mixing up his words…

"Yeah. It means ripping something's limbs off and stuff." He looked confused.

"It does. Is that an analogy you're using? I don't think I'm familiar with it…" I couldn't recall that term being used in any of the support groups that my old clinic had sent its clients to. Maybe I had been out of the loop too long these past six months…

Dean shook his head, another curl bouncing free of the confines of his hair tie. "Nope! I mean I was literally torn limb from limb."

I exhaled audibly and wracked my brain for an idea as awkward silence settled over my office. "Dean… Would you mind if we did a drug test right now?"

My client's eyes widened. "Uh…sure, but I can assure you that I'm sober."

"You just told me that you were dismembered as a child," I reflected back.

Dean nodded gravely. "I did. Because I was. Do you see now why so many people don't get me?"

He looked so wounded that I felt an unwarranted stab of guilt. "But…if you were dismembered as a child, you wouldn't be alive right now, Dean. How are you still alive?"

Dean laughed suddenly and I looked at him helplessly.

"Because I'm a god, silly!"


	9. Gods' Out of the Bag

A/N: I'm a day late. Please don't shoot me! Here's the update. Please review. :)

Chapter 9 – Gods' Out of the Bag

"A god…" I parroted back.

"A god!" My client beamed. "So, drug test then?"

My mind reeled. This was way out of my league. Either my client was intoxicated and delusional or he had some type of psychotic disorder, like Schizophrenia. At my last internship us non-licensed types weren't allowed to touch cases that were this intense. Hank said he was going to start me off with easy cases. This was definitely not easy!

I wanted to scream with frustration, but instead I stood up, forcing myself to remain in control of my emotions and not let them reflect on my face. Dean was still smiling at me, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that what he had just said was completely insane.

"Okay, let's go meet with my supervisor real quick. I just need to ask him where we can set up a drug test."

If the screening came up negative, I would then ask Hank to help me in referring my client to a psychiatrist for evaluation and possible medication for a psychotic disorder.

Dean stood up as well. "Alright. That's cool."

I noted that he seemed oddly relaxed for someone who had just admitted that he felt he was a god.

We walked the short distance to Hank's office and I cringed inwardly before knocking. My supervisor opened the door and eyed us both suspiciously. "What's going on?"

"Um…" I noticed that I was trembling in his presence again. "I wanted to know where we drug test clients."

Mr. Pinstripes gave Dean an oddly angry look. "You need a drug test?" That didn't seem very professional to me…or nice…but then again this was Hank. Honestly, it was hard for me to see him as a counselor. Maybe he was only empathetic when his bereaved clients were weeping openly before him…

The client shrugged nonchalantly. "I told her I'm sober. Do you smell booze on me?"

My supervisor sniffed audibly. "Oddly enough I don't…"

They seemed strangely familiar with each other...but I didn't have too much time to contemplate this as Hank suddenly turned his stone gray eyes on me. "Why do you think he needs to be tested?"

I looked around self-consciously, tactfully breaking uncomfortable eye contact, but also mindful of the rules of confidentiality. "May we come inside and discuss this with you privately?"

Without a word Hank opened the door a little wider and let us into his office. He shut the door after we stepped inside and we approached the two chairs in front of his desk.

"So, what's going on?" My boss took his seat without even asking for introductions.

I glanced at Dean. "Dean, this is Hank. He's my supervisor. Are you comfortable with telling him what we just discussed in my office?"

"Yeah sure!" the client grinned. "I told her I'm a god!"

Hank shot out of his chair like a rocket, slamming his hands on his desk. I yelped at the sudden explosion of noise. My boss' eyes were smoldering like hot coals. "You WHAT?"

Dean's smile quickly disappeared from his handsome face. "I…told her I'm a god?"

I squeaked as my supervisor lunged across his desk and collared my client right out of his chair. I could already see the incoming lawsuit that move would garner the treatment center…

"You imbecile! She wasn't supposed to know that yet!"

Dean managed to smile again and I marveled at his bravery. Had it been me who was dangling from Hank's trembling fist, I probably would have peed on myself and his floor. "Well, she definitely knows now with the way that you're carrying on. Sheesh!"

My supervisor's eyes widened with surprised outrage.

I was starting to think that maybe Dean was suicidal, goading my supervisor like he was, when Hank's words suddenly sank in. I wasn't supposed to know…what? That Dean thinks he's a god? And that Hank actually believes him? Were they both insane?

"It's cool, it's cool," my client was trying to reason with my fuming boss. "We can handle this. I just thought that I should be honest if I was actually going to get better."

I was staring at the two of them from my seat. I felt like I was a million miles away, frozen in my chair, watching the scene unfold before me. The whole world was turning on its head, the sky was falling, and I realized that I was suddenly surrounded by crazies. One of those madmen was about to pound the living daylights out of my insane client and I was doing nothing to prevent it.

"Did it work all those other times?" Hank barked in my client's face, ignoring my presence at the moment. My supervisor had an angry vein standing out on his neck and I feared it might burst.

Dean gagged a little as Hank shook him violently. His head was lolling like the bobble head he had just been playing with back in my office, back when I was still under the impression that I was merely dealing with a struggling alcoholic…and not someone who probably also suffered from Schizophrenia. "If I may be completely honest again?" he managed. "No…but I thought this time might be different!"

"Ten therapists and you thought THIS time would be different?" my boss exploded again, tossing Dean back into his chair. "This was a mistake. We should just let you drink yourself to destruction."

My client pouted, looking like a petulant child. "That's not a very nice thing to say…"

I suddenly realized that I was standing, my chair lying awkwardly on the floor from when it must have been knocked over. I couldn't remember how it had been knocked over or when I had decided to stand… My mind felt numb. My whole body was shaking and I could feel cold sweat trickling down the side of my face. "What…what…?" I couldn't give voice to the millions of questions running through my brain and I rubbed my slick forehead in frustration.

Hank was giving me an almost remorseful look, which only served to confuse me more. Thus far my boss had proven to be sarcastic, blunt, and borderline sadistic when it came to those damn rocks. The look on his face right now seemed so out of place by comparison that it actually frightened me further.

My client beamed at me suddenly. "Can you believe he went by 'Hank' for so long without snapping?"

I quirked an eyebrow at my supervisor, whose eyes widened and darted away from mine suddenly. "Don't—" Hank started.

"His real name is 'Hades.'"

The last thing I saw was my supervisor punching Dean across the face and spilling him across the floor.

Then the world went black.


	10. Prove It

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reviewing and favoriting my story! I am beside myself with giddiness. :) You are all very encouraging!

I'm also looking for an artist to maybe turn this into a comic… Tips would be appreciated! :D

Now onto the story!

Chapter 10 – Prove It

I awoke to find that I was still in Hank's office, staring at the ceiling. Why was I on the floor? Did I pass out? Had my supervisor's intense stare finally unnerved me so badly that I had fainted? How embarrassing…

I moved to sit up, groaning, and felt strong hands grasp my arms. "Easy now. Not so fast."

It was Hank's voice, but it sounded oddly gentle. I turned slightly to make sure I wasn't imagining things and noticed that he was kneeling beside me, an upturned chair behind him. My mind felt fuzzy and I was struggling to remember what had happened right before everything went black. "What…?" I started.

"You passed out…" my boss stated matter-of-factly.

I groaned again. "Awesome… How stupid did I look?"

Hank may have actually chuckled. It made my head hurt.

"Maybe she forgot what happened…" I heard someone mumble from across the room.

"You shut your mouth!" my supervisor barked over his shoulder.

I saw Dean on the floor as well, rubbing a swollen cheek that looked like it was turning purple. My jaw dropped. "Oh my God… Hank! You hit my client!"

My supervisor nodded coolly. "Yes, I did."

"He doesn't even care!" Dean lamented.

Hank gave him a blank look. "No, I don't. Now keep your mouth shut or I'll do it again."

My client pressed his lips shut, a look of genuine fear in his deep brown eyes.

I wanted to cry as I thought about all of the charges that could be brought against my supervisor and what that would mean for me. I was clearly going to lose my boss, which meant that I would no longer be under the direct supervision of a licensed therapist. There were no other therapists willing to offer supervision…I know, I asked around the treatment center months ago in the event that an opening became available… Hank, the HR newbie, had been the only one to step up to the plate thus far. If Hank was gone, that meant that I would lose my position… I would not be able to conduct therapy without my supervisor there to provide the legally required signatures for my hours. Tech Support would consume my soul again, if my old position was even available anymore. If it wasn't…if Seth had filled my spot already or didn't want me back…I would join the ranks of the unemployed. Hot tears sprang to my eyes before I even realized it.

Hank's blank look melted into one of surprise. "Andrea?"

"You're going to go to jail now!" I wailed. "And I'm going to lose my job!"

My supervisor sighed and tightened his grip on my arms, helping me to my feet. I scrubbed at my eyes, feeling like a helpless idiot in front of my client and my boss. Not that it mattered. I was going to lose Hank and my job and never do therapy for poor crazy Dean ever again…

My boss shifted and pressed me to his side to free one of his arms as he stooped to pick up my toppled chair. He felt really warm and I found it oddly comforting being so close to him. When he plopped me in my seat, I felt the loss of his nearness acutely.

Hank walked around and sat at his desk. He observed me with those intense tombstone gray eyes.

"Aren't you going to help me up?" Dean grumbled.

Without looking at him, Hank answered. "No."

I wiped at my cheeks, catching some stray tears with my fingertips.

Hank offered me a tissue box and I took a sheet gratefully. "Andrea, I'm not going to jail and you won't lose your job." His voice was calm and soothing and I almost believed him, except that Dean was still sprawled on the floor, nursing a face that was swelling badly.

"Dean would be well within his rights to sue the center…to sue you. You could lose your license…" It was hard to breathe. I felt like this was all my fault. I just wanted to drug test Dean! What had happened? I still couldn't seem to recall anything from after Dean and I came to see Hank…

Hank shook his head. "Dean is not going to be filing any charges. Isn't that right…Dean?"

My client glowered from his spot on the floor…a moment of courage or stupidity…I wasn't sure which…but broke out into a nervous grin when my boss turned to glare at him. "Nope. No charges. The official story is I hit my face on a doorknob or I fell down a flight of stairs. I can be soooo clumsy."

"Exactly," my boss snorted.

I sighed, not feeling at all comfortable with how my supervisor was bullying my client into submission. "It still doesn't change the fact that Dean needs a drug test…and possibly an evaluation by a psychiatrist."

A squeak escaped my client. "Well crap, she still remembers that part."

My supervisor ignored him. "He doesn't need either of those. I can tell he's not intoxicated and he's definitely not psychotic…although sometimes I wonder."

"Hey!" Dean protested.

"He thinks he's a god…" I started, but then turned to my client, not wanting him to feel left out. "You think you're a god, Dean. I just want to check some things out and make sure you'll be okay."

The young man's face darkened slightly. "There's a big difference between thinking you're a god and being a god."

I felt really small. This was hard. Dean was a nice guy…just a really troubled nice guy. "I'm sorry… I don't mean to upset you."

I paused. Snippets of the conversation drifted back to me from earlier. I felt my eyes widening involuntarily as I slowly pieced the entire encounter back together from when Dean and I had first entered Hank's office to just before I had passed out. It wasn't good… Either my supervisor had been playing into my client's delusions for whatever reason or he actually believed him and was likewise crazy. I had to find out which was true before this went any further. "Um…Hank? What do you think of Dean's story about godhood?"

My supervisor rubbed his forehead, looking oddly troubled. "Andrea, what he told you in your office was true."

Oh wow… Well, that settles things.

I made a move to bolt out of the office, but Hank lashed out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was like an iron vice and I gasped in alarm at the physical contact. "Sit down, Andrea." If his touch had felt like iron, his tone was like steel, and I trembled as I took my seat again.

His hand didn't release my wrist even after I was back in my chair again, but his grip lessened a tiny bit. "You need to listen to me very carefully. I know this is a bit much—"

I choked on a strangled laugh. "A bit… You both need to be evaluated."

The grip tightened again and I yelped in pain.

"You're not listening to me."

I wriggled my arm uselessly and nodded. Anything to get him to lighten up on my wrist. "Okay, okay! I'll hear you out! Just…ow…stop that!"

The grip lessened again and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alright," Hank began again. "What Dean told you in your office is true…and what he said about me is also true… Again, he's not intoxicated and he's not suffering from psychosis and neither am I."

My jaw dropped. "Why would you say that?"

My supervisor narrowed his eyes slightly. "Because we cannot afford to have Dean locked up again and that's exactly what would happen once he passed the drug screen and was then referred to a psychiatrist."

My head throbbed on the verge of a migraine. "We?"

"The other gods," Hank clarified as if this should have been perfectly obvious.

I turned toward my client. "Dean, you've been locked up before?"

"Yeah, it sucked" was all he offered.

"It merely gave him yet another reason to drink himself stupid," Hank continued. "Throwing him into an institution or medicating him—"

"Or both…" Dean grumbled miserably.

"—won't do anything because he is a god and nothing will change that."

This was absolute madness. I wracked my brain, trying to remember what Dean had called Hank just before I had passed out so gracelessly. "He…he called you…"

"Hades," Hank offered.

I nodded. "Greek god of the Underworld…"

Dean cheered unexpectedly. "Woo! She didn't mix you up with Thanatos!"

My supervisor rounded on my client again. "Didn't I tell you to shut your mouth earlier?"

The man on the floor grinned sheepishly before miming an act of zipping his lips and throwing away a key. I would have laughed if I hadn't been so confused and scared.

Hank stared him down for a bit, and an equally insane idea popped into my head. When my boss looked back at me again, I had managed to find my voice and a small modicum of courage. "May I ask a favor if I'm expected to believe all of this?"

What could it hurt?

My boss eyed me. "Depends on the favor, but you may ask…"

I swallowed hard. Here goes nothing.

"Prove it."


	11. Gran Mama

A/N: Thanks to the new reviewers! I'm really excited that other fanfiction writers are reading and reviewing! I feel so…official! :D Thanks again, everyone, fanfic writers and fans alike!

Chapter 11 – Gran Mama

Hank didn't say anything for a long time after I had demanded that he prove his grandiose claims to be true. I thought that maybe I had called his bluff…or maybe he would snap and shake me by my shirtfront. Unfortunately, I feared it was neither of those options. The way he was looking at me made it feel as though I had merely said something that he had been expecting all along. And that he was prepared for it.

His eyes went out of focus for a moment, looking for all the world like the surface of a calm, murky lake, and his hand felt increasingly warm wrapped around my wrist. It looked like he had that million mile stare that traumatized people get when they're flashing back, but there was more…depth to it, like he had purposefully chosen to zone out as opposed to being forced out by some intrusive stimuli. I blinked and suddenly his eyes were as sharp and soul-piercing as ever…and they were boring into my own.

"Andrea…" The way he drawled my name caused my skin to turn into gooseflesh. I hoped he would not feel the bumps beneath his palm. "You lost your grandmother a few years ago…"

I heard myself suck in a quick breath. My heart constricted in my chest.

"Her name was Ann Elizabeth Taylor. You called her 'Gran Mama' until the day she died."

I thought my eyes would shoot out of their sockets. "How…?"

"You were in undergraduate school when her health began to decline rapidly," he continued. "She was diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer mere months before you would graduate with your Bachelor of Arts in Psychology…"

I gaped at him, too stunned to say a word.

"She never told you…or your family… She hired a caregiver to take her to the doctor for treatment and wrote off all of the appointments as just 'old aches and pains' when any of you would question the frequency of her trips or long absences. She paid her caregiver well to keep her mouth shut in the hopes that it would change nothing between all of you."

My free hand flew to my mouth, shielding my face in a protective gesture. "Oh my God…"

"She would have told you all eventually…as it became apparent that there was nothing more to be done, but she died before she got the chance. A week before your graduation ceremony."

Dean exhaled audibly.

Very few people knew all of the details about how I lost Gran Mama and only family knew that I always called her by that ridiculously silly name that I had given to her as a child. But Hank had just recounted almost everything that had transpired all those years back. I placed my shaking hand on Hank's desk, willing it to stop betraying my emotions. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I narrowed my eyes at my boss.

"That proves nothing," I whispered, not trusting my voice to be any louder. "For all I know, someone around here knew the story somehow and told you and now you're using it in the hopes that I'll believe you."

I thought that my supervisor would ream me for undermining his authority, especially in front of my client, but he merely nodded his head. "Fair enough. I didn't recount the entire experience that you had. Would you like to test me on the parts that I left out?"

I thought for a moment. That would be interesting. "Tell me if I did anything weird or unusual at her funeral."

Hank closed his eyes for a moment. "Your grandmother had an open casket. You touched her hand when it was your turn to say goodbye."

I didn't trust myself to speak the next part, but I forced the words out of my mouth. "And why would I do such a thing…?" my voice cracked.

When my supervisor opened his eyes, there was a world of empathy in them. "To verify to yourself that she was really dead."

The lump was back in my throat and I could feel my eyes tearing up again. I blinked them back and forced myself to remain calm…or at least appear visibly so…

"Tell me what I put in her coffin," I demanded.

"A pink carnation and a heart-shaped lump of rose quartz." He rattled the facts off without any hesitation. It was as if he had a transcript in his head to read from.

"Maybe you knew someone in my family…maybe you were at the funeral…maybe it was posted in the paper…" I was talking out loud, trying to reason away the absolute insanity of what I was currently experiencing.

Hank sighed. "I can do you another favor, if you think that would help."

I quirked an eyebrow at him without saying a word.

My boss cleared his throat. "I can allow you to see her briefly. As proof."

"Uh…is that such a good idea?" my client asked, daring to open his mouth again.

Now I really thought he was crazy! And toying with my feelings as well? I laughed, sounding a little hysterical even to me. "Okay sure! Just do some hocus pocus voodoo magic, Hades, and bring Gran Mama back to life!"

Hank raised an eyebrow calmly, but didn't say anything. He held out the hand that was not holding my arm against his desk, pointing at the door with his index finger. "I will not restore her life, but I can let you see her shade."

"Her what?" I spat.

Dean piped up. "What mortals become when they die."

"Right…" I sighed.

Hank continued. "In return…you will do me a favor."

"Yeah, sure, whatever…" was all I managed before a painful blue light flashed from somewhere behind me, piercing my peripheral vision.

"Don't look back. The light will hurt your eyes," Hank cautioned me.

He didn't need to tell me twice. I even squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the bright light. Eventually the glow died down, as my eyelids were no longer backlit by whatever my supervisor was attempting to do. The temperature in the room dropped suddenly.

"Andrea…?" came a familiar voice.

The hand around my wrist squeezed gently. "You can open your eyes now."

I did and then I looked over my shoulder. There by Hank's door was my Gran Mama or at least the shade of Gran Mama. She didn't have a real flesh and blood body. Instead it looked like her humanoid form was made out of white smoke that occasionally sparkled the same brilliant blue that I had seen when my boss had supposedly summoned her. But I could see her kind eyes and her tireless smile.

When I tried to stand, Hank released my arm. I stood staring at Gran Mama, a look of stupefaction plastered to my face…or at least that's what it felt like.

"Gods that never gets old…" Dean breathed in awe.

Taking a step forward, the world shifted.

I heard my client blurt out, "Oh crap, not again!"

I blacked out again.


	12. Believing

A/N: Thanks again to the reviewers and hello to the new people watching my story!

Chapter 12 – Believing

I awoke to find Hank, Dean, and Gran Mama's shade staring down at me.

"Jeez!" my client barked. "That's twice in less than thirty minutes! I think my therapist needs to work on her relationship with gravity…"

My supervisor shot him a look of disdain.

"Also…I may have been able to see up her skirt when she passed out…both times."

Hank disappeared from my field of vision as he grabbed Dean by the neck and hauled him away. I could hear my client choking in the distance.

With Hank and Dean gone, that left me alone with Gran Mama. I struggled to pull myself up and then crawled over to Mr. Suit's cabinet with the rocks.

This was not happening…this was not happening! All I had ever wanted was an internship that provided some pay and supervision so that I could get my hours for licensure. I just wanted to be a therapist so that I could help people. Instead, I could feel my mind on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Seriously…what the hell!

Grabbing two stones, I tried to stack them with my shaking hands.

"Andrea?" Shade Gran Mama asked. "What are you doing, dear?"

"Stacking rocks." My voice sounded really far away to me.

"Why?" She sounded so God damn curious… Just like she always had. I had always been able to count on Gran Mama to be genuinely interested in the things that I did.

I shuddered. "Because it seems like the most logical thing to do right now."

"She's snapped," I heard Dean comment from somewhere behind me.

Had I? It wouldn't surprise me if I had, given the circumstances. How could one tell if they were insane anyway? Maybe I needed an evaluation...

"It does?" the specter asked. The undying compassion and warmth of Gran Mama was coming through…although now it really was undying… The irony of that realization made me laugh weakly.

"It does, Andrea?" she repeated.

"Of course it does!" I barked over my shoulder. "You're DEAD, Gran Mama!"

Her face crinkled into a look of profound sorrow, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by an expression of infinite compassion that I definitely did not deserve right now.

"I'm sorry this is so weird, my little Andy…but it's really good to see you."

That did it. I crumbled against the filing cabinet, the two rocks I had been trying to stack smacking into each other and tumbling down on top. Two tears escaped the confines of my lashes and spilled down my cheeks.

My body shook as I choked out, "How many times have I told you not to call me that? 'Andy' is a boy's name."

Gran Mama chuckled softly and I felt a cold…something…on my shoulder. When I turned to look, I saw one of her ghostly hands touching me. I reached out with one of my own and tried to touch it, like I had at her funeral, but my fingertips passed right through hers. I choked back a sob. "Oh God…"

"It's been a long time," she said, her eyes shining with an understanding that she must have achieved only after she had died.

I ran the sleeve of my shirt against my cheeks, drying the tears with the fabric. "I never forgot you. I kept all the pictures…the stuff from your funeral… Everything."

She smiled. "I know and I haven't forgotten any of you dear ones either."

My eyes searched hers, looking for answers to questions I couldn't even begin to formulate in my mind.

"You and our family were the only ones who didn't know the truth before I died…"

A familiar anger flared inside of me briefly. "We hated not knowing…"

Shade Gran Mama smiled sadly. "I know…but it meant the world to me."

The anger died suddenly, extinguished by my otherworldly grandmother's words.

"You were the only ones I could spend time with and pretend I wasn't dying."

My heart went out to her and I reached out with my arms, grasping her incorporeal form as best I could. Her smoky arms wrapped around me in a hug. Even though I shivered from the cold radiating off of her unreal body, I didn't break away. My grandmother held me close and rocked me as if I were still the little granddaughter she had known all those years ago. I could feel myself smiling softly, despite how unusual the situation was. There were so many things that I wanted to ask her, so many things that I wanted to tell her, but the silence surrounding us was comforting…and part of me was afraid that if I said anything and broke it, she might disappear. So, I clung to her tightly, biting my lower lip to keep from crying out at the intensity of the cold roiling off of her strange form.

Eventually, Hank came over and tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up at him helplessly, still clinging to my Gran Mama. "She needs to go back home now, Andrea." His tone was uncharacteristically kind and gentle. I couldn't hate him for taking Gran Mama back even if I wanted to.

Nodding, I slowly unwound my arms from the shade. I looked into her eyes, trying to memorize every little detail about her. "Are you happy, Gran Mama?" I had to know.

My old grandmother guided me up off of the ground with her cold undying hands. "Oh yes! They have all the Bingo and English Toffee you could ever want!"

I chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"And do prayers do anything…?" I hated myself briefly for the look that I must have been giving her.

Shade Gran Mama glanced at Hank…or Hades…or whoever he was…and my supervisor nodded. My grandmother returned her smile to me. "Yes, prayers are wonderful. They're like getting little postcards from people in the mail. So please keep them coming…"

"Of course," I promised. "I love you…"

"I love you too, Andy…" she smiled softly and then my deceased grandmother turned back to my boss and gave him a brief nod.

I watched as he put a hand on Gran Mama's shoulder and steered her back toward the door. When it started to glow blue, Hank instructed me to turn around. I called out to Gran Mama, saying that I loved her again, that all of our family members and friends still loved her, but I wasn't sure if she heard me. I turned around and faced the wall, trying to find some small comfort in what she had said about prayers. Perhaps she already knew how we all felt now that she had crossed over.

A few seconds passed and the light flared and then guttered away into nothingness. Someone's real and corporeal hand grasped my shoulder and I turned around to find Hank standing behind me, his expression unreadable as per usual. He was holding his Kleenex box and I helped myself to a few sheets.

"If these tears don't stop, I'll need to buy you a new box," I sniffled apologetically, taking my seat in front of his desk again.

Hank merely inclined his head. "It's no problem. Are you alright?"

I nodded. "Despite everything, yeah… Thank you for letting me see her. That was very kind of you…"

"You're welcome. Do you believe us now?" Hank's eyes appeared to be the same color of concrete that was used to make Gran Mama's tombstone.

"I do," I sighed. "Oh God, I do… Well…"

My supervisor stiffened as I hesitated.

"I believe you, Hank…Hades?" I tried the ancient name out on my tongue.

"Most mortals preferred to call me by…other names, but you can call me 'Hades' if you like. For obvious reasons, it would be best to keep that name to yourself around others like you."

I think he tried to smile after that, but it looked forced. Hades actually looked really tired. If he didn't look so worn out, I would have asked him what other names he went by. I was kind of curious…

"You hesitated earlier," my boss continued. "You said you believed _me_. Do you still doubt Dean?"

I looked at my client remorsefully. "I saw your power, Hades, not Dean's…"

I expected Dean to look offended, but instead he broke into his trademark grin, got up off of the floor, and rubbed his hands together eagerly.

"I got this," he declared and grabbed a water bottle that had been resting innocently on Hades' desk. Before my supervisor could protest, the water turned a deep maroon color. Dean set the bottle down in front of me, satisfied. "There."

"You know, you really need to stop doing that. Some of us like to do our jobs sober." Hades made a sour face at my client.

I eyed them both as I opened the bottle and sniffed the contents. It was wine.

"Water to wine?" I asked. "Are you Jesus?"

Both Hank and Dean suddenly burst out laughing at the same time. I sat in my chair, terrified…mostly because I had never seen Hank laugh like that before and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. After a few minutes of enjoying my question, they both calmed down to the point where they could speak clearly again.

"Oh crap," my client's eyes widened suddenly. "You're not Christian or Catholic are you?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm...open, I guess you could say."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay whew! I was hoping I didn't just destroy your faith or something."

"He is twice-born, but he's not Jesus," Hades offered, still chuckling.

Dean smiled. "I did that trick way before his time. Silly, I'm Dionysus!"

I remembered the case file and slapped my forehead with my open palm. "Oh wow… That should have been obvious… Sorry, I'm not in my right mind, I guess."

My client got up and sat in the chair beside me. "It's okay. I understand my story kind of threw things for a loop today. Talk about a first session, right?"

I gave him a strained smile. "Yes, I can't say I've ever had a session quite like that before."

Hades eyed us both. "Do you believe us now, Andrea?"

I nodded emphatically and then something dawned on me. "Um…I'm not expected to worship you guys now, am I? I mean, I know I said I was open, but…"

My boss smirked and then shook his head. "That's not part of the job description."

I sighed with relief. "Okay then. What do you need me to do?"

"Keep providing counseling to the clients that are assigned to you and I will advise you along the way," he promised.

"I can do that. Although I will probably need a lot of your advice if I'm dealing with gods," I stated as I tossed my wadded tissues into the trashcan beside Hades' desk.

I looked at the Greek god of the underworld and found it surprisingly more comfortable to maintain eye contact. "Do you think that I can still be Dionysus' therapist after everything that's happened here today or did I completely screw up our professional boundaries?"

"You're going by the book again," he snorted. "I told you these clients will be different from the norm, which means therapy will likewise be a little out of the ordinary."

Shrugging, I tilted my head to the right. "I did kind of pass out twice and dissolved into tears a couple of times. Godly clients or no…that could be kind of awkward."

"I don't have a problem with it. Stranger things have happened," Hank stated matter-of-factly.

"It didn't bother me, either," Dean added. "The important thing is that you actually believe us. All the other therapists before you either thought I was crazy or went crazy themselves…"

That wasn't exactly comforting, but I thought that I had come through this ordeal with all of my mental faculties intact.

"Okay. As long as everyone is fine with it, then I am too," I decided. "May I still drug test Dionysus?"

My client squeaked.

"Just so he has a nice clean screen in his file?" I elaborated.

"I'm fine with the idea," my supervisor purred and then smirked at Dionysus. "Let's go to the drug testing station."

Dean jumped out of his chair. "I'll go, but I'm not peeing in a cup in front of Hades!"


	13. Seeds of Doubt

Chapter 13 – Seeds of Doubt

A/N: Remember, Andrea cannot provide an evaluation that would enable her clients to get medication. She is not that kind of therapist. She can only refer out to someone who can. :)

And according to theoi dot com (Fanfiction is dumb and won't let me link stuff…), Hades was also known as a master of dreams. Just don't want anyone jumping down my throat saying that I gave away Morpheus' job. :P Hades had a lot of jobs and that one about dreams differs slightly from that of Morpheus anyway. :)

Dionysus was perfectly compliant about providing a sample for drug testing, which was a welcome relief. Before I sent him on his way, I gave him instructions to write me a list of his drinking triggers in the time between this and our next session. He accepted the homework graciously and then reported that his program required him to attend a support group twice a week.

"I can't believe I have to go to AA…" he had lamented in my office before leaving for the day.

I was secretly glad for it because it meant that he would have support when he wasn't here with the staff at the treatment center.

We set up an appointment for Friday so that he might have a real first session that didn't include therapist freak outs and apparitions of my long-deceased grandmother. I also wanted to make sure that he continued to stay sober. Forty-nine days didn't mean that he was out of the woods just yet and I would have his results in three days as well. Since the day was almost over, I jotted down a few quick notes in Dean's file. I would ask Hank how to format them tomorrow when we had more time.

Despite everything that had happened today…mere hours after my session with the Greek god of wine…I was beginning to question all that had transpired in my supervisor's office. Nagging doubts began popping up. Was it all a joke? Were Dean and Hank playing some kind of trick on me? Did we just experience group psychosis? Was I crazy…?

I tried to brush them aside, but more than once I thought about whether or not I still wanted my client to be evaluated by a psychiatrist… My client had said so himself…many of his former therapists thought he was crazy. Maybe he really was and maybe medication would fix his problem, but I needed someone with a PhD or MD to help me with that… Those people could provide the evaluation and they would also be the ones who could write him a prescription—

I shook my head, trying to physically eject the thoughts out of my mind. If I took Dean to a psychiatrist, I would destroy our therapeutic relationship. My client would never trust me again, and I would probably be in a lot of trouble with Hank…or Hades. Ugh, I keep using their pseudonyms and Greek names interchangeably!

Anyway, I either had to believe that they were actually ancient Greek gods or be willing to go against my supervisor and possibly lose my client and my job. Somehow the first idea seemed a lot more appealing…but I couldn't help the nagging thoughts that accompanied them…

Before I left for the day I swung by Hank's office. He called me in when I knocked on his door. I watched him as he filled out a form, signing his name at the bottom with a flourish before turning it face-down on his massive desk and glancing up at me. When he motioned for me to come forward, I felt a sudden surge of panic, wondering if he would be able to tell that I had doubts and reservations.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, searching my eyes and making me feel extremely uncomfortable again. If he caught wind of my thoughts… I shuddered under his scrutiny and prayed that he would simply attribute my nerves to the stress of the session that we had endured with Dean.

"I'm doing okay," I lied. "Despite the day I've had…"

His intense look morphed into something less intimidating and I breathed a sigh of relief inwardly. The fact that he hadn't called me out had secretly emboldened me. If these guys really were gods, wouldn't they be able to read my mind?

Suddenly the second idea I had earlier seemed more appealing. For the well-being of my client, perhaps it would be best to order an evaluation for him. Even if Hank fired me for my insolence, I'm sure future clinics would understand why I did what I did once I told them what had happened. Or maybe I could file a complaint with the Board of Behavioral Sciences… My supervisor might very well be a loon with a license to practice. He certainly wouldn't be the first…or last. Perhaps I would be doing the whole counseling community a favor by turning him in!

I had to resist grinning openly.

"Well, go home and get some rest." Hank's comment interrupted my sanctimonious inner monologue. "You'll definitely need it. Tomorrow we can call Tyche."

I nodded and made my way back toward his door, but stopped suddenly.

I remembered Gran Mama.

How could I explain that?

"Um…Hank?"

"Mmm?" He looked at me with those unreadable steel-gray eyes. "Back to 'Hank,' huh?"

I choked. That was careless of me. "Er…Hades. Sorry…"

"What is it?" he prompted.

"About my grandmother… I just wanted to say thank you…" I felt my throat tighten with sudden emotion. How could I explain those feelings? They had felt so real… She had felt so real…

He looked away, glancing at his computer monitor suddenly. "No problem. Hopefully it took care of your doubts."

Guilt knotted suddenly and painfully in my stomach. "Yeah, it was definitely convincing."

And yet maybe I had been hallucinating. Or perhaps I had suffered from too much stress caused by Dean's declaration of godhood… There were a hundred and one explanations that made a lot more sense than my grandmother temporarily coming back from the dead by the grace of an ancient Greek god that most people these days would either associate with the Disney movie character or the Devil, than what those old myths used to say about him.

Hank looked at me again and raised an eyebrow suddenly, making the blood in my veins turn to ice.

"Alright" was all he said. His tone was completely neutral. It was hard to tell if he believed me or not, but I was willing to bet that he also had his doubts…

It was my guilt, I tried to reason with myself finally. Hank is the confrontational type. If he knew what I was thinking, he would be saying something about it by now...or making me stack those stupid rocks… I was just projecting onto him. I was sure of it.

"Oh. Did you bring your intern number and ID's for Zach today?" he changed the topic suddenly and much to my relief.

I cringed. "Oh jeez…I totally spaced this morning. I'm sorry… Is he hounding you for them?"

"Not really. He just emailed me, asking about them, but he will probably be hounding you tomorrow if he doesn't get them."

"Okay," I replied nervously. "I'll be sure to remember."

"One last thing," Hank called after me just as I was reaching for the door handle.

My heart thundered in my chest. Oh God, here it comes… He could read my thoughts after all!

"That dream that you had…I'll have an explanation for you tomorrow."

My body spasmed from a combination of residual fear left over from my nightmares and sudden, deeply refreshing relief from realizing that my supervisor had not and most likely could not read my mind and my damning thoughts about him and my client.

A small part of my mind noted his choice of words though. Explanation? It was an interesting choice for someone who picked his words very carefully. Crazy or not, Hank had managed to pique my curiosity again.

"Sounds good," I stated. "Thanks so much! Have a good night."

Hank shot me an unreadable look that could have meant anything.

"See you tomorrow, Andrea" was all he said.


	14. Fragile Mortal Memory

A/N: A day late, a buck short… Here's the latest! Please review at the end of the chapter. I'm getting into the newer material and could really use some feedback. :) Love it? Hate it? Just right? Please let me know! :)

Chapter 14 – Fragile Mortal Memory

When I got home that night, I popped a frozen dinner into the microwave, too tired to cook myself anything substantial. My cat, Arson, who had been MIA earlier that morning, dashed down the stairs…or more like fell down half of them based on the amount of noise he made…and advanced on me, whining as if I had left him alone for weeks instead of mere hours.

The bright orange tabby rubbed up against my legs, painting them with tufts of hair as revenge for abandoning him. I gave him a half-hearted glare, as I was all too used to the amount of fur my cat sheds regardless of how often I brush him. Then he mewled for my food.

"No, Arson… This is people food." I grabbed the tray when the microwave beeped. Then I glanced at the bubbling mass dubiously. "Even then…that's paying it a compliment."

My cat tilted his head, watching me as I reached for a bottle of red wine on the counter. Ghost Pines Merlot. An excellent choice that would wash down my lame dinner with a better aftertaste. I couldn't help but think of Dean as I grabbed a wine glass out of the cupboard.

I snatched up a can of cat food for Arson and a can opener and left the kitchen balancing my awkward load.

My furry companion followed me into the family room, where I plopped down on the couch with my dinner. Arson proceeded to take up my entire lap while I opened his can and then turned on the TV for the both of us. I flipped to TiVo and decided to watch the latest installment of _America__'__s__Got__Talent_, which had been dutifully recorded for me.

As I watch Piers Morgan tear into another US hopeful, my cup of wine disappeared down my throat faster than I had expected. I reached over to the little table beside the couch for my bottle of wine and poured myself another glass. I sipped this cup a bit slower, as I could feel my body already becoming languid with the effects of my drink.

My thoughts turned toward the day's events, muddled by the onslaught of alcohol. So many thoughts…so many questions… Ugh…

I looked down at my cat, who was purring unabashedly, surrounded by the warmth of my legs once more.

"Arson…if you were a god…would you need therapy?" I asked, giving voice to one of the myriad doubts plaguing my mind since I had left work.

"Mew?" was his perfectly articulated response.

"Would you need counseling for mental health if you were a god?" I elaborated.

"Mew," he said more decisively.

"That's what I thought," I chuckled into my glass, draining it again.

My cat went back to purring with his eyes closed.

"Wait, Arson… Another question. If you were a god from like way way way back when, wouldn't you be able to tell what I was thinking?"

"Mrow?" he asked for seeming clarification.

"Like, if I was thinking of doing something you didn't want me to do? Wouldn't you be able to tell? Wouldn't you be, like, omnipotent?"

Arson cracked one eye open at me, looking slightly irritated. "Mrrrr…" he grumbled, as if I were questioning his own omnipotence.

"No one doubts your authority, Arson," I snorted. "I mean my new supervisor and my new client."

My cat did not deign to respond, so I poked him in his chubby flank.

"So, it's okay to ask a psychiatrist to evaluate my client, right?" I asked.

My cat's tail flickered with what I thought was annoyance and he looked away from me with a haughty sniff.

"Whatever, Arson. You're just being contrary for the sake of being contrary…and I'm tipsy. It's totally okay," I declared to Sharon Osborne, who was lavishing another contender with praise. "They're just nuts. Both of them. Hank needs to be reported to the Board and Dean needs antipsychotics."

Even in my tipsy state I still could not explain what had happened with Gran Mama…

Luckily…or not…my personal defense mechanisms would take care of that for me.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

I fell asleep that night with Arson in my lap. The day had wrung me out mentally and emotionally, and between the comfortable couch, my warm cat, and the red wine, I found myself at the mercy of my drooping eyelids.

I dreamt again that night.

I was outdoors, the vast expanse of the night sky spread out above me. Millions of stars twinkled amongst the occasional trailing wisp of a cloud. I sighed in awe, transfixed by the sight.

I was on a dusty road, surrounded by people dressed in plain white robes that looked oddly dated. They held torches in their hands, providing the only light around us. All else was pitch black, giving the stars free reign of the sky.

I wondered, absently, why there were no street lights...

I was jostled occasionally by the people beside me who would suddenly break into dance and shout sporadically. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but suddenly noticed that the same words were coming out of my mouth as I too started dancing in a frenzy.

A small part of me felt that this should have freaked me out…or at the very least I should have felt confused. Instead, my stomach fluttered with anticipation and excitement.

The dream shifted suddenly, my surroundings blurring, and then all I could see were my bare feet on a heavily beaten path. They were filthy and I noted the occasional blister here and there. The ache in them was bone deep, but I kept putting one before the other, heading toward some unknown destination that beckoned to me, drawing me forward like a moth to a flame…

Another shift that blurred the image of my feet and the dusty pathway, and I was on the shores of some beach that I did not recognize, surrounded by the dancers from earlier in the dream. The waves coming in were calm, the sound of them breaking soothing, and the sight alone took my breath away. The sand was pristine, free of the trash and gunk I was used to seeing on the beaches I frequented, and the water looked clean enough to drink, if not for the salt content. I could feel my mouth hanging open foolishly as I gapped at the scenery.

We all walked forward as a group, feeling the warm sand beneath our feet, as we approached the shoreline. We submerged ourselves slowly into the ocean's waters, somehow knowing intuitively that this was what we were supposed to do. I could feel all of the dirt and sweat being washed away as wave after wave broke over my head. In the back of my mind I could feel something stirring within me, calming me, bringing a peace of mind I had never known before.

A final shift and I was alone in the dark. Or so I thought.

"Don't be scared," a woman said in hushed tones, as if she were trying to keep me from crying out. Her tone was playful and I felt someone's soft hand brush my cheek. I flinched.

I will admit that I did feel a little panicky not being able to see anything, but the unexpected touch felt calming. My ragged breathing was slowing down noticeably.

"Much better" said the feminine voice.

Two lights flared and I saw the silhouette of a woman, presumably the one who had spoken to me. It was hard to see her features, as everything about her was cast in shadow by the lights behind her, but the outline of her hair glowed gold in the firelight.

"I'm so glad you made it," she giggled and another hand forked fingers through my hair.

I tried to open my mouth to say something, to ask her where I was and what was going on, but she covered my mouth…with hers.

My eyes flew open in shock…and met a pair of golden eyes that were narrowed to near slits. The shadows around this woman's face gave her a lethal look and she radiated with unadulterated rage. She didn't say a word, but I knew exactly who she was mad at. Unfortunately I had no idea why she would be so angry with me.

Every fiber of my being screamed at me to run.

As if sensing my thoughts, she shot a hand out suddenly and grabbed me by the throat. Calloused fingers dug painfully into my neck, choking off my airways…

Arson's shrill cry pierced through my sleep, jarring me awake almost instantly. I realized I had his tail in my clenched fist. Sweat was trickling down the side of my face.

"Oh, sorry! Poor kitty!" I released his tail and pulled him up against my chest, soothing him like some big, fluffy baby and taking comfort in his warmth.

He grumbled in my ear.

Getting up off of the couch, I brought him upstairs with me, offering my bed as consolation for squeezing his tail. Curling up beside him, I did my best to still my shaking body with deep, controlled breaths.

"I don't know if I can go back to sleep, Arson…" I confessed after a few minutes of feeling my heart thundering in my chest.

"Mrow," he offered with kitty confidence and somehow I drifted back to sleep.

Thankfully, I did not dream again.


	15. Migraines and Whiskers

A/N: Thank you all for continuing to read my story. :) Please review at the bottom of the page!

Chapter 15 – Migraines and Whiskers

I went into work the next day plotting to contact the Board about Hank's madness, and a psychiatrist for an evaluation for Dean at our next session. When I found TheCompleteIdiot'sGuidetoClassicalMythology on my desk, I groaned. Seriously, Hank?

Grabbing up my phone, I dialed our front desk.

"Thank you for calling Hope Treatment Center. This is Leirda. How may I help you?"

"Hey Leirda? It's Andrea Taylor in…Counseling."

It was still so new to me. Still so weird.

Don't get used to it, I told myself. After this goes down, I will probably be fired by Hank…or laid off once I lose my nutty supervisor.

"Hi Andrea! You were in TS before, right?" I could practically hear her infectious smile through the phone and I found myself smiling as well…despite the circumstances.

"Yeah, I was" I confirmed. "Bit of a career change."

For now…

"I'd say!" she chirped. "So, what can I do you for today?"

I took a deep breath. This was it. The end of my short-lived career in Hope Treatment Center's Counseling Department.

"I need to be connected with one of the on-site psychiatrists. I have a client who needs an appointment for an evaluation on Friday."

"Okay, let me see who we have available today. Just a moment."

I was put on hold.

Then the door to my office flew open.

The doorknob connected with the adjacent wall, sounding disturbingly similar to a gun shot. Hank stood in the threshold wearing a perfectly tailored navy blue suit. His expression was grim and I swallowed against a lump that had suddenly formed in my throat.

"Who are you calling, Andrea?" Hank asked, his tone acidic.

My hands started shaking so badly that I actually dropped the phone. It landed on my desk with an equally harsh bang that made me jump in my seat.

"I'm just calling the front desk." It was true. I wasn't lying.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem to appease my supervisor.

Hank scowled at me as he stepped into my room, closing the door behind him. "I suppose a better question would be…what the hell do you think you're doing?"

It was suddenly hard to breathe. I wasn't sure how to answer him. Instead, I tried to reach for the phone lying on my desk. My supervisor approached me faster than I thought was humanly possible and snatched it up before I could. He held the device up to his ear and leaned close enough to me so that I could hear the holding music Hope Treatment uses on their phone system. Hank's cold gray eyes locked with mine and refused to let me look away. They reminded me uncomfortably of the color of a guillotine blade…

"Hey Andrea, we have Tim Cootz in today" both Hank and I heard Leirda reply on the other line.

My boss' scowl deepened and I fought the urge to melt into a puddle and slide under my desk. "Hi Leirda, this is Hank in HR," he replied with measured control. "I'm with Andrea right now. Thank you for letting us know."

He hung up the phone, effectively cutting me off from the rest of the world. Now it was just me and my really pissed off boss.

"Tim Cootz is a psychiatrist, Andrea…"

I nodded, suddenly fearing for my life. "I know…"

"Now why would you be calling a psychiatrist?" he asked, though from the look he was giving me, I was willing to bet my life savings that he already knew the answer.

I was an idiot and now some crazy Greek god was going to kill me for being disobedient.

"I…um…I wanted to… I think it would be good for Dean if he…" I couldn't finish any of my sentences! God dammit!

Unfortunately Hank already knew what I was going to say. "Still not convinced, are you? After your grandmother you still need more proof?"

I gave him a blank look. "Gran Mama?"

His eyes widened briefly. "Yes… 'Gran Mama,' as you call her. Your dead grandmother."

I looked at him like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears. "Wait… You knew my grandmother?" What were the odds that my supervisor and late Gran Mama knew each other? The world must be very small…

One of Hank's fists slammed down on my desk suddenly, knocking over my pen holder and spilling writing implements onto the floor. I jumped again. "Ack!"

"Gods damn it all!" he shouted, searching my eyes with an intensity that made me feel like I wanted to cry or wet myself… or both. "You blocked it all out!"

"I blocked what out?" I asked, completely at a loss.

Hank's glare could have melted through my skull, I was sure of it. "You've forgotten everything that happened yesterday! Everything that mattered!"

"What? What happened yesterday? What mattered?" I cried.

"Exactly!" he shouted.

"Exactly what?" I begged.

He grumbled something that sounded like "stupid mortal defense mechanisms" and then his hands shot out and grasped the sides of my face roughly. I would have complained that he was smearing my makeup, but the look he gave me was enough to shut me up before I said anything else that would anger him further.

Those gray eyes of his began to smolder crimson at the edges. They looked like hot coals burning out the last bit of their life before turning to ash. I wanted to scream or cry out the horror that I felt being forced to look at something so unnatural, but I couldn't seem to make a sound. My jaw worked uselessly between his palms... Then I felt something tugging at the brink of my consciousness. Like an old forgotten memory trying to surface. I remembered a blue light shining and someone calling my name… The voice sounded oddly like my old grandmother.

Then I started to get a massive migraine and Hank pulled away.

"That's all I'll do for now. Despite how tempting it is to fry your brain after what you just pulled, I've chosen to be gentle."

Groaning, I rested my head on my desk. The mother of all migraines was pounding right behind my eyeballs. Hank considered this being gentle?

He continued. "You should slowly start to remember what happened yesterday. In the meantime, let this be further proof."

I looked up at Hank questioningly as he lifted one hand in a gesture that seemed oddly familiar somehow and pointed his index finger at the wall right behind me.

"There's a dead rat in there."

I blanched. "Ew! That's nasty!" Then I groaned as my own loud exclamations hammered in my skull with a vengeance. "Wait…how do you know that?" I whispered.

Hades gave me a look like I was the dumbest blonde he'd ever met.

"Greek god of the underworld…sorry…my bad…" I mumbled.

"There's a dead rat in that wall," he repeated. "I'm going to animate it."

Before I could even think to ask what the heck he was talking about a bright blue light flashed from somewhere behind me. It pierced my peripheral vision and I hunkered down on my desk, covering my head with my arms and groaning as a sharp pain lanced through my brain. Through the haze of agony, I could hear my supervisor move toward the door. It opened and shut with a click.

I thought that he had left. But after a few moments of silence, Hank spoke.

"The light is gone. Look up," he ordered.

I obeyed in a desperate attempt to avoid further punishment and gasped as a tiny creature skittered around from behind Hank's black leather shoes. It only took me a moment to notice that it was a complete skeleton. A complete rat skeleton. It barreled straight toward my desk and then started climbing up the side. When it finally came to a stop right in front of me, my jaw dropped open.

Freaking out right about now would have probably been appropriate. This was, after all, a reanimated rat skeleton sitting on my desk, rearing up on its hind legs as if to get a better look at me with its sightless eye sockets. But, much to my surprise, I found it incredibly cute.

"Don't ever try plotting behind my back again, Andrea," Hank warned, although I noticed that his tone was softening slightly. "Doubts I can understand and even work with, as you can see. Deception is another matter entirely."

I pulled my attention away from the creature on my desk and glanced at him, suddenly fearful.

"Firing you would be all too easy and, frankly, we actually need you," he grumbled. "But I have all kinds of creative punishments in mind if you don't act accordingly."

I flinched at that and saw him smirk in response.

"Trust me when I say that you would be much happier remaining entirely ignorant to them by behaving yourself and being honest with me."

I ventured, "Can you really punish me if you're not my god?"

Hank grinned and I shuddered violently. "Would you like to find out?"

Tearing my gaze away from his, I muttered, "No...not really."

"I may not be your god, but I am your supervisor. And right now both of those positions are pretty much the same thing to you." His smirk broadened.

He had a point… I sighed heavily, rubbing my forehead, and tried to focus on my new rat.

"So, what's his name?" I asked, hoping to take the conversation in a different direction.

My boss made a sound like something had caught in his throat and choked him. I looked up to find him giving me a rather puzzled look. His sadistic grin wiped completely off of his face.

"Its name...?"

I tried to smile. It probably looked strained. "Yeah, I'm assuming you're giving him to me to keep as living proof, right?"

Hank nodded. "That was the idea...yes."

"So, he needs a name!" I declared a little too loudly and my head throbbed in protest.

My supervisor shook his head and frowned at the creature, as if he were horribly disappointed that it hadn't proven to be half as frightening as he had planned. "I take it you're not afraid of undead rats?"

I cocked my head to the right. "I probably should be...but he's horribly cute... I think I'm going to name him Mister Whiskers."

Hank raised an eyebrow at me. "That doesn't make any sense... He has no whiskers left."

"Doesn't the irony just kill you?" I beamed. "Get it? Hahaha!" I winced as my own laugh hurt my head.

"Gods…" Hades groaned. "Have you had your coffee this morning?"

"No..." I pouted and then grinned.

"I can tell," he sighed.

I gave him a blank look. "Hey…you did kind of scare the bejesus out of me just a second ago. I'm kind of coming off of that adrenaline high."

He shot me an equally blank look. "You deserved that and a lot more besides, so be thankful I only scared you."

I looked down at Mister Whiskers, defeated.

"Will he bite if I pet him?" I tried to change the subject back to my rat again.

"You want to pet it?" Hank asked incredulously.

The undead rat turned to look at him too.

"He's cute!" I tried to explain.

My supervisor rolled his eyes and sat in one of my client seats as I reached out and rubbed the bony plate between my rat's eye sockets. It seemed to make him happy and it distracted me from both my headache and the intimidating Greek god sitting across from me. Still, I could tell that Hank was watching me carefully as I played with my new bony friend.

Then I remembered my dream from the previous night.

"Oh...Hank? Er...Hades?"

"Yes?" he drawled, frowning as Mister Whiskers nuzzled my fingers.

"I had another weird dream last night..."


	16. The Past Resurfaces

A/N: I am aware that the ancient Greeks had many different views of what happened to them in the afterlife. By the power of creative license, I am going with the one that I liked best. :P

Also, still looking for an artist to commission. :)

Chapter 16 – The Past Resurfaces

"What happened this time?" Hades asked.

Through the haze of my headache I told him all about the weird dancing with the people carrying the torches. His expression remained perfectly neutral as I described going to the ocean with everyone. It was almost as if I were telling him a story he'd heard a million times already. But when I told him about the kiss his cheeks stained pink with an unmistakable and unexpected blush. I ended by telling him about the woman who had tried strangling me, expecting him to make some kind of comment on it, but it appeared as though Hank had already stopped listening. He was actually avoiding eye contact with me for once and his face was still glowing.

"Um…you're blushing…I think. Unless you're just really angry…" I felt my stomach twist itself into a knot at that prospect. I could go an entire lifetime without seeing my supervisor punch another desk and live happily ever after.

"I'm not angry," he muttered, glancing at me briefly before looking away again.

He was completely out of character. Clearly I had said something that had made him uncomfortable…

"I just wasn't expecting you to have another dream so quickly...especially that one…" he mumbled. "Apparently I was wrong."

I eyed him skeptically. "Can a god be wrong?"

"Us Greeks can be, yes," he said a little too quickly, betraying his discomfort further.

My boss slid _The Idiot's Guide_ across the desk toward me, narrowly missing Mister Whiskers. "That should explain some of it. In short, we are not all-powerful. We have flaws."

My fingers caressed the cover of the book for a moment. I could sense my boss desperately trying to move the conversation away from the topic of my latest dream, but I decided to follow his latest tangent. "I didn't realize… So, if you're not omni-everything, how did you know I was calling a psychiatrist just now?"

Hades gave me a shrewd look and tapped a finger against his temple. "I know mortals. Probably better than most of the other gods."

I nodded. "So, you knew about my doubts yesterday?"

"Of course I did," he snorted.

"You didn't say anything…" I sighed.

"I wanted to see how you would react after having had a chance to sleep on the matter." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm still capable of giving mortals the benefit of the doubt."

I grimaced. "And how was that for a reaction?"

"Typical," Hades stated simply. "Mortals lie to themselves all the time to make sense of their lives. I expected that you might do the same given the amount of stress yesterday's session caused."

An image of Gran Mama as some kind of sparkly ghost flashed through my mind and my brain felt like it pulsed. I winced and rubbed my temple.

"That migraine will subside once you fully remember what happened yesterday," he assured me.

I summoned the best puppy eyes I could manage. "Is there anything I can take in the meantime? Any medicine?"

Hank gave me a cruel smile. "Not a chance. Consider this further punishment for going behind my back."

"You're mean…" I grumbled, burying my head in my hands briefly.

"So I've been told…usually by those most deserving of punishment," he quipped.

A long silence stretched between us. My mind wandered back to my latest dream, and I secretly wondered if Hank was thinking about it too.

"Um…" I drawled, having nothing better to say to fill the void.

My supervisor sighed audibly. "Let's talk about that first dream you had. I told you I owed you an explanation."

I felt myself smiling despite the nagging pain. No one had ever done dream analysis for me before and now a Greek god-therapist was going to do it! I honestly had to keep myself from squealing with delight.

"Yeah, you did…but what about this newest one?" I asked, probably a bit too eagerly. "Can you explain both? Please?"

"I will explain the first one," Hank stated evenly. "But I have no intention of talking about this latest dream of yours."

I flinched like he'd slapped me. "Wait…what?"

"You should not have had that last dream." Hades scowled, a dark line marring his perfect skin right between his eyebrows. "There's a reason why I make shades drink from the Lethe between each of their lives."

My head was pounding something fierce now. What the heck was he blathering on about now?

"What does that do?" I asked stupidly.

"The river water makes them forget their past lives," my boss explained.

I eyed him warily. "And what would that have to do with me and my dream?" Realization dawned on me suddenly and I felt my stomach do a backflip. "Unless…"

No way… Did I have a past life? Is that what he was implying?

"You should stop asking questions now, Andrea," he warned.

It felt as if the world had just dropped out from underneath my feet. My head was swimming with confusion and pain as I tilted it to the side again, considering my boss and what he had just told me. Mister Whiskers, my undead pet, crawled up my arm to perch on my shoulder, nuzzling my neck with his bare skull.

"Did I have a past life?" I asked, ignoring his advice.

My boss gave me an unreadable look, but said nothing.

"Seriously, you can't just leave me hanging like this," I implored him.

"Of course I can," he growled. "That dream was a mistake. You should just forget about it."

I scowled at him. "Easy for you to say. That dream was so intense, so real… How can I forget something like that?"

His expression softened slightly as he sighed heavily. It seemed to be a trademark of his. "If you can't forget about it, it would be best for you to just ignore it. Do something to distract yourself whenever you remember it."

"See?" I sighed too. "When you say things like that, it makes it hard for me to just let it go. What happened back then?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Who was I?" I tried again.  
>"I am not answering that," he snapped and one of his black eyebrows quirked up, daring me to try again.<p>

I did. "Who was that woman who kissed me?"

My supervisor blushed again. Bingo! That kiss was clearly significant. I was getting warmer...

"Was she my girlfriend?" I prodded.

Hades' gray eyes darted away from my face, as if the carpet had suddenly become the most interesting thing in his world right then. Even warmer…

"Was I a lesbian in my past life?"

My boss' eyes closed, as if he were trying to block me out visually. Warmer still…

"Is that what I can't know about? That I used to be into girls? Are you trying to protect me from my past self so that it doesn't mess with who I am right now?"

The Greek god's eyes snapped open and locked with mine. I was so close to an answer, I could almost taste it.

"I know what you're trying to do and I would advise you to stop right there."

I should have kept my mouth shut, but I was so close. Just one more question and surely he'd snap and give me the answer I wanted so badly. I could feel the tension between us. It was a verbal tug-of-war and he was an inch from falling into the pit. I was too close to quit now. I just needed to ask the right follow-up question. Unfortunately…I apparently thought it would be a good idea to blurt out:

"Did you watch?"

Hank went crimson to the roots of his raven black hairline and both of his hands gripped my desk like vices. "That's it! I warned you!" His voice rang in my head like a gong.

Oh jeez…worst question ever! Why did I say that?

"Apparently you're a glutton for punishment today, Andrea! Headache wasn't enough for you?"

I felt myself slouching in my chair, trying to distance myself from my boss' wrath. "I…uh…didn't mean it like that. I mean…um…I'm sorry?" I offered.

"Sorry nothing! To my office right now! You'll be stacking those rocks for the next hour!"

I grimaced. "Aw boo…"


	17. Dream Explanation

A/N: Hi all, I'm back…kinda. Only half-dead a week later. This illness has been a doozy, but here is the latest chapter. It was a really hard one, so I hope it makes sense. Questions, comments, concerns? Review below. :)

Chapter 17 – Dream Explanation

I would have been more fearful, but with Hades so frazzled by my commentary, I wasn't sure what to feel just then. It was intriguing…and kind of amusing, but I couldn't let him know that. Getting up out of my seat, I marched toward my boss' office with him grumbling behind me incoherently…or maybe he was speaking Greek.

Stacking rocks, crouched on the floor of Hank's office, was just as bad this time around as it had been the first couple of times, except now I also had my migraine to contend with. When my boss insisted on explaining my first dream, it only served to distract me further and ruin any progress I made on rebuilding the structure I had seen a couple of days ago.

Memo to me: Don't test Hades.

"So, your first dream…" My supervisor looked down at me from his fancy chair. "It was about the destruction of ancient Greece and the collapse of the old religion."

I swore under my breath as a rock slipped out of my hand and demolished what I had managed to stack already. My rat, who had managed to sneak in with us by hiding underneath my hair, kept giving me what felt like sympathy nuzzles.

"You saw the temples being destroyed and our faithful being slaughtered by members of the new religion. The king and queen you saw were my younger brother, Zeus, and his wife."

I choked. "Wait…the big guys didn't do anything to help their own people?"

"No. Despite all of our power, us 'big guys' must obey the fates." Hades' expression was so solemn that he almost looked like one of those ancient Greek statues. "And the fates had decreed at that point in time that our reign among the mortals was at an end."

I steadied one of the big rocks on top of a smaller one, praying it wouldn't move. "Why would they do that?"

My boss smiled sadly. "They didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. They merely state what was, what is, and what shall be…and, well, that was the latest. That was the prophecy. The new religion was taking over. We were finished on this plane."

I frowned sympathetically. "Jeez…that's rough…"

"That's an understatement," my boss smirked. "The fates were actually the three robed goddesses that you saw in the second part of your first dream."

I shuddered when he mentioned them and destroyed my work. I barely noticed… Goddesses or not…the memory of them still scared me.

"As I understand it, you saw them picking you to help us with the problem of our untimely end, which is still an outstanding issue today," he continued. "And then lastly you saw me, but in my modern form. That clipboard I was holding actually contains all of the admission forms for new souls entering into my domain. Between the prophecy of the fates and the massive influx of faithful souls from the slaughter, I was...pretty upset. But that part of your dream was also a hint that your boss might actually be divine…"

I would have laughed, but all I seemed capable of at the moment was holding two rocks in my hands, staring at my supervisor like I had suddenly suffered some kind of massive brain injury. Considering the headache that I was nursing, I wouldn't have been surprised to find out that I had turned into a vegetable. Only single words came out of my mouth. "Picked? Prophecy? What?"

Hades leveled his crypt-gray eyes at me. "Yes. The fates chose you to help the gods with a problem that has persisted for centuries. You're not the first one to be handed such a task, but if we're lucky, you'll be the last, as we don't exactly have an infinite amount of time to resolve this issue."

I nodded dumbly, praying that this would all sink in later.

"You need to understand that we gods do not need mortals to maintain our existence. We existed long before humans were ever created. Your prayers, worship, beliefs, and offerings simply add to our power."

I struggled to comprehend what the god of the Greek underworld was saying. "We're supplemental."

He nodded encouragingly. "Exactly. We were fine before. Then we all got used to a higher standard of existence when mortals were made to honor us. The fates stating that our reign was at an end was essentially dooming us to an eternity of something less than what we wanted. However, they divulged that we could maintain a better state of existence if we found ways of obtaining indirect worship. It wouldn't be same, but it would be better than what we had before mortals were created, which was no worship at all."

"Indirect worship?" I interrupted. I had to admit that most of this stuff was flying right over my aching head.

Hank seemed to understand. "Let me give you an example that might help. Your client, Dionysus, is the god of the vine…amongst other things. Old forms of worship included libations, prayers…and some crazy parties. These were all done in his name. In his honor."

"Direct forms of worship," I offered helpfully.

He nodded and eyed the pile of rocks that I had been neglecting. I turned toward them again as the god continued his explanation.

"It built him up…made him happier and stronger than he otherwise would have been. Those forms of worship are gone now. These days Dionysus tries to supplement his existence with the energy people direct at alcohol by going to trashy frat parties or bar-hopping…but the energy in those places can be toxic and he suffers for it."

My heart ached for poor Dean.

"He's in danger of destroying himself over this whole thing because he does not want to lose what he once had, even though it is already gone..." Hades frowned.

I nodded, slowly understanding. "So he needs healthier ways to cope…healthier indirect forms of worship."

My boss nodded again. "Right."

"Like what…?" I asked.

My boss shrugged. "Unfortunately that's something you two will have to figure out together."

"Okay… And what happens if he continues down the path that he's on right now?" I asked as I tried to stack two little rocks on top of each other. "Like, what if we can't find anything that works for him?"

"He will continue to grow more dysfunctional, which makes him a danger to everyone, and Zeus will be forced to strip him of his godhood." Hank winced, as if the idea itself physically hurt to think about.

"Oh wow! So all of my clients…" I began, but a searing pain lanced across my forehead as I remembered a ghostly hand on my shoulder. Probably more repressed memories from yesterday.

"All of your clients are deities who are in danger of losing their status as gods because they have not been able to find healthy indirect forms of worship," he finished for me.

"Man…no pressure, right?" I mumbled.

Hades shrugged in response.

"So why do you need mortals to help?" I asked. "I mean, you guys are gods. You just told me that the Greek gods don't need mortals, so why can't you just find better ways on your own?"

Hank narrowed his eyes briefly. "Some of us have tried and succeeded. I supplement my existence by working as a grief counselor, Zeus works as a manager in Human Resources…you get the idea. But others, like Dionysus, have not been so successful. Unfortunately the prophecy is an all or none deal. Either all of the gods find indirect ways to obtain worship or the entire pantheon has to remove itself completely from this plane. Stripping a dysfunctional deity of their status as a god would help matters because they would then no longer be part of the pantheon, holding the rest of us back, but no one really wants to see that happen to anyone… So it's all of us or none of us."

I felt my eyes widen in response and my boss smirked, "Talk about no pressure, right?"

"That's awful…" I sighed. "And so you need mortals because…"

"Remember what I said about us not being perfect? It comes into play in this instance. According to the fates the best way to obtain indirect worship would be to use the mortals to aid us. The idea behind this was that mortals know their world better than even the gods, since we are not always present on this plane. So we began enlisting their aid whenever the fates found a mortal they felt would be able to help."

A sigh escaped me. The affairs of mortals and gods sounded beyond complicated. I rubbed my head with the back of my hand.

"Using mortals? Sounds kind of selfish, if you ask me…" I grumbled and then stopped, realizing that I had spoken those words out loud.

I thought for sure that Hades would start tearing into me for being disrespectful, but he merely smirked. "In a way it is…but we do try to balance things out by rewarding those that helps us. It's not completely one-sided. Look at you, for example. You help us and I sign off on your hours to help get you closer to licensure."

That sounded fair. "That's true," I offered. "So...why me specifically?"

"Simply because the fates chose you," my boss gave me a sympathetic look.

"Really? That's it?" I frowned.

Hades nodded solemnly.

"That sounds like a total cop-out."

He shrugged. "Trust me, I know the feeling. They picked you and they don't explain their actions. They're the fates. It is what it is. We gods have our own theories, of course…"

"Do you have a theory?" I asked, hoping my boss might slip and start divulging information about my past life.

"I do and I'm not telling you what I think because I know exactly where this line of questioning will lead."

Damn it.

"It was worth a shot," I grinned.

Hades eyed the pile of rocks again and I groaned before getting back to work.

"So that's it, huh?" I asked. "That's the dream?"

"Yes," my boss replied. "That's all you need to know for now. I imagine it's quite a bit to take in all at once."

I sighed as I managed to stack another pair of rocks together. "What part of my new career hasn't been 'quite a bit to take in'?"

My supervisor didn't respond to that. He let the silence stretch as I worked tirelessly on the tower. I felt myself losing all sense of time and memories drifted back to me from yesterday's session with Dean. By the time the tower was actually complete, I remembered everything…and my migraine was gone.

"Hey, I actually stacked it right!" I shouted in triumph.

My boss spoke to me for the first time in what felt like hours, "So, you finally remember?"

I nodded, blinking back tears that had been triggered by the images of Gran Mama.

"Do you remember the favor that you said you would do for me before I let you see her?" Hank asked.

I shook my head. "What favor…?"

"You responded with 'Yeah, sure, whatever…' when I told you that you would owe me if I let you see your grandmother's shade," he informed me.

"That was binding?" I snapped.

He smiled at me and there was a harshness in it that made me fear his answer. "The gods take oaths very seriously, Andrea. Do you wish to break yours?"

I eyed him warily. He wasn't my god. He knew that…I knew that…but something deep inside told me not to test him. Not on this. "No sir…" I mumbled nearly against my will.

"At last, some humility from you. There may be hope yet," Hank chuckled. "The favor I require is that you do not under any circumstance speak to anyone else about your case load. This includes other therapists and psychiatrists. If a referral needs to be made, I will do it. It is not for you to decide what a god or goddess may or may not need outside of your own practice and confidentiality is of the highest importance in all of these cases. Have I made myself especially clear?"

His eyes locked with mine and I found myself unable to look away. "Yes, you have."

Then my boss' door flew open and Zach was in the doorway. "Hey Andrea! Do you have your employment papers? I need your intern number…proof of insurance…"

The interruption tore my gaze away from Hank. I looked over at Zach like it was the first time I had ever seen him. When I glanced back at my boss, seeking permission to leave, that hypnotic gaze that had held me captive just a second ago was gone. He looked over at the HR Manager.

"You can take her. I'm done here."

And with that, I was dismissed.


	18. Coffee Break

A/N: Here we go. From this point forward, the plot should start chugging right along. :) Onward then!

Chapter 18 – Coffee Break

Zach and I walked back to my office, where I riffled through my purse for the items he had requested.

"So, I understand that Hades explained everything to you, huh?"

I paused and looked up at Zach. It was weird hearing someone else call Hank by his real name. "He did…yeah."

The HR Manager's eyes crinkled at the edges as he chuckled. "And you haven't run screaming down the halls and out the front door, never to be seen or heard from again?"

I finally found my intern number and insurance papers and handed them to Zach. "Nope. I mean, should I? Is that what happened to the last person who helped the Greek gods?"

Zach paled a bit, but quickly regained his composure before I called him on it. "No no…"

I pulled my rat off of the back of my neck and he squeaked in protest. I proffered him up to the man in front of me. "Hades has been more than willing to prove all of the claims he has made. I really can't argue with them, especially Mister Whiskers."

The HR Manager looked at my rat like he was carrying the plague. "No…I suppose you can't."

When I put my undead pet on my desk, Zach visibly relaxed. "Plus, he's signing off on my hours, so I think I'll stick around for a bit."

The man smiled. "That's good."

I quirked an eyebrow up at him. "So…are you really Zeus?"

"Of course I am," the man answered without hesitation. "And no, you can't see my powers because I would fry every computer in the whole building and I'd rather not cover that expense while I'm managing…other issues."

I tried not to giggle. "So why HR?"

Zeus shrugged. "I'm the king of gods and mortals. I've always had to manage both spheres, so for my own personal indirect worship I figured I'd go professional by managing employees."

"Have you always worked here?" I asked.

"No, I took the job recently because you got picked by the fates and this is where you were working at the time."

"Ah, convenient," I muttered.

I let silence fall between us, as I considered a gamble.

"Hades didn't tell me everything…" I muttered.

Zach moved in closer. "He didn't? What did he leave out?"

I looked up at the king of gods and mortals pleadingly. "I think something bad happened to me and he won't tell me what it was. I had a dream about a woman kissing me and then another woman choking me. I have no idea what it means."

Zeus' expression went serious for a split-second before he shifted it into perfect neutrality. "I…can't discuss that with you, Andrea. If Hades didn't explain it, then I definitely can't either. That stuff falls under his domain and we gods try not to step on each other's turf, if that makes any sense."

I sighed heavily. This was frustrating. Apparently no one would tell me what the heck happened to me in my past life. I wanted to say more, but my phone suddenly blared to life. Zeus eyed my phone, frowned at my rat, and then nodded to me before leaving me alone with the screeching appliance. I walked around my desk and plopped into my chair heavily.

"Hello…?" I answered a bit too despondently.

"Is that really how you answer your phone?" came Hades' irritated voice on the other line.

"This is how I answer my phone when I fail to get answers about my past life out of your brother," I replied.

My boss snorted. "Who said anything about a past life?"

Damn him! He never slips up!

"Right. How can I help you, lord Hades?" I asked in perfect monotone.

"You can start by cutting the sarcasm and getting me some coffee," he growled.

I choked. "Wait what?"

"I don't want the coffee we serve here either. It's crap," he declared. "Go out and get something halfway decent."

I frowned at the phone. "You know, we have a receptionist…"

The door to my office blew open again and my boss closed a small silver cell phone he had been holding up to his ear. "You'll get me coffee because I'm paying for yours as well."

He reached into his pants pocket and drew out a simple black leather wallet. Then he flicked a card onto my desk. It was a black American Express card that had "Hank A. Underwood" stamped across the bottom in gold letters. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"You have a black credit card!"

"Yes, I do," he stated simply.

I picked up the card, my hands shaking.

"You'll find as you get to know us better that the gods generally have more than one domain that they rule over. Another of my domains is all the riches beneath the earth. Comes in handy sometimes."

I think my jaw was hanging open, but I didn't care.

"Go for a walk, get us some coffee, and then we'll call Tyche for an appointment."

I tore my gaze away from the shiny plastic and looked up at Hank. "Regular or decaf?"

My boss smirked and then gave me his order.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

I was so excited to have that little black card in my wallet as I rounded the corner to the nearest Starbuck's. It wasn't mine, and I had every intention of giving it back, but just for a moment, I may have been pretending to be Hank…with all the riches beneath the earth on a little credit card.

My smile broadened when I walked inside the shop and saw that there was no line. Today was definitely improving! I approached the first barista and ordered a hot peppermint mocha for myself and dark roast for Hank, no sugar, no whip, just black.

When my order was called, I grabbed the drinks and headed for the door…just as someone else was trying to get in. There was no avoiding it, we crashed into each other and I spilled both drinks down the front of my shirt.

"Oh God!" I cried, batting at my chest uselessly as the hot liquid burned my skin.

"Oh jeez!" the other person cried, grabbing onto me to keep from falling. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't even paying attention!"

I gave her a quick, meaningful look and then ran to the bathroom. Locking the door, I peeled my shirt off and ran warm water over it. Grabbing some towels I did my best to wash up, careful to avoid irritating the angry red marks all over my chest. There was a soft knock on the door.

"Hey! It's me! I have a Tide Stick in my purse, if you want it."

I walked over to the door and opened it a crack. The woman behind the door looked to be in her 30's and was painfully beautiful with her golden wavy hair and large luminous brown eyes. She was looking up at me with enough guilt to make a Catholic priest happy.

"Here," she said as she pulled out the stain remover stick. She smiled nervously as I took the item from her outstretched hand. "I'd like to buy your drinks for you too. That was totally my fault."

I nodded. I wasn't going to decline. The last thing I wanted to do was charge Hades' card twice…

"Just give me a second," I told her and closed the door.

I went back to my shirt, working as much of the coffee out as I could and then began wringing out the water. That's when I realized just how screwed I really was. I didn't have another shirt on me. There was no way I could go to work in just my bra.

There was another knock on the door and I opened it again. That girl was still there.

"Um…did you need another shirt?"

I eyed her warily and she offered up a pastel pink T-shirt that had "Save the Earth" emblazoned across the chest. There was no way I could wear that at work…but it was better than showing up in my beige push-up. And it actually looked like it was in my size.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Thanks."

"You can keep it," she offered helpfully.

I closed the door without responding and pulled the T-shirt over my head. I grabbed my wet button-down and exited the bathroom.

That girl was still there waiting for me.

"Let's go get your drinks," she muttered sheepishly.

She led us back to the front of the store where I noticed a massive line had suddenly formed. I groaned. This would not be a quick trip…

"So…what's your name?" the girl asked, clearly trying to make idle conversation.

"Andrea." I wasn't really in the mood for talking. I had to get back to the office.

"Nice to meet you, Andrea. I'm Patty. Do you live around here?"

Dear God… I had to bite my lip to keep from groaning again. "Yeah. Do you?"

"Actually yeah! I just moved here" she smiled, clearly hoping I would continue the conversation.

"When did you move here?" I asked automatically, realizing that I was doomed to a longer conversation with Patty.

"About two weeks ago. I live just up the street," she flashed me a million-dollar smile.

"That's cool. I work just up the street, actually," I responded.

She tilted her head to the side and I noticed that she was wearing white flower earrings that were distractingly shiny. "Oh neat! Where do you work?"

"Hope Treatment Center," I stated.

"It's a mental health treatment center" I elaborated when she gave me a puzzled look. "I'm a therapist over there."

"Ooo, a therapist! I would have pegged you for a secretary with the drinks you were carrying," she giggled. "Sorry…"

I sighed. "Yeah…my boss seems to have the wrong impression of me, but he's buying so it's cool."

"Always a plus," she grinned.

Then it was our turn to order. She covered my drinks like she said she would and when our order came up, I was ready to dash.

"Um…Andrea?" she called after me just as I was about to hit the exit.

I stopped. "Yes?"

Patty looked at me with big brown, puppy dog eyes. "I know we didn't get off to a great start, but I've been looking to make friends since I got here and it's been hard. Do you think that maybe we could hang out sometime? You seem pretty neat and I've never had a therapist for a friend before." She flashed that award-winning smile again.

I set the drinks down on a nearby table and pulled out my wallet. I gave her an old business card that I had made when I was still working at my last internship. "Sure, give me a call sometime. Maybe we can go shopping for new clothes next time."

Patty laughed at that. "Thanks so much! Hope to see you soon."

And with that, I walked back to work.


	19. Goddess Out of Luck

A/N: My apologies! I had just gotten over the flu when one of my D&D buddies brought the plague to our last session and knocked the entire party out. Well, all of us except the DM. I told him he failed at his job. :P But alas, it meant I was bed-ridden and weak and crappy for a long while. I still have a nasty cough, but at least I can spend some time on the story.

Here's the latest. Please R&R at the end. This is all new material, so I'm super anxious to see how people like it!

Chapter 19 – Goddess Out of Luck

When I walked into Hank's office with his coffee and card, he frowned at my shirt. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"I had a bad run-in with this girl at Starbucks. Completely drenched my shirt in coffee, so she gave me this as a consolation prize," I shrugged as I set his drink on a coaster on his massive desk and handed him the black credit card.

"Here," my boss waved his hand and a black button-down shirt materialized on his desk. "You can't wear that hippy shirt around your clients. Put that on instead."

I looked at the new shirt dubiously. "Am I going to owe you for this?"

Hades gave me a blank look. "Consider this a favor for me. You shouldn't be wearing anything that shows your own personal biases in this line of work. It's not professional."

I nodded. I definitely agreed with him, I just didn't want to be ensnared into another deal of his unwittingly. Taking the shirt from his desk, I turned and headed for the door.

"I'll call Tyche," I called back.

"Thank you," he replied.

I stopped for a second, totally shocked that he'd said that. When I glanced back over my shoulder, I caught him staring sadly into his cup of coffee. Then he glared back up at me.

"Did you need something?"

I blanched. "No no! I'm good! Just…um…you're welcome!"

OoOoOoOoOoOo

I got back to my office and changed into the new shirt that my boss had given me, stashing the one that Patty had given to me in one of my desk drawers. I would have to remember to return it to her later.

I sat down in my chair and pulled up Tyche's case file on my computer to access her personal information. Then I grabbed the phone that Mister Whiskers had been sleeping on…at least, I think he was sleeping from the odd noises he was making and the way he had curled up on the receiver…and called my new client.

There was a lot of noise on the other end when someone finally answered the phone and a frantic female voice spoke. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Tina?" I asked.

"Speaking. Who is this?" she yelled into the phone. It was really hard to make out what she was saying over all of the background noise.

"This is Andrea. I'm a therapist at Hope Treatment Center," I replied.

"Hope Treatment…? Oh! You're the therapist!" her voice rivaled the other noises assaulting the phone for a moment. "Just a sec."

After a couple minutes, the loud noises reduced considerably. "Therapist? You still there?"

I rubbed my forehead, as I put two and two together. "Yes, I'm here. So, you are Tina?"

"Yes," she responded.

"Also known as Tyche?" I clarified.

"Ah, I see you're in the know already, huh?" she chuckled darkly. "Yeah, that's me again."

"Are you at a casino right now?" I asked point blank.

I heard her sigh. "Yeah, yeah, I am…"

"I think it would be good for you to come in soon for a session. What about you?"

She sighed again. "I don't exactly have much of a choice, so, yeah, sure."

"When do you want to come in?" I asked, grabbing a pen and pad of paper and balancing the phone between by ear and shoulder.

There was a strange sound on the other end of the line and a flash of light from somewhere beyond my desk temporarily blinded me for a few minutes. I blinked rapidly to clear my field of vision and, when I could finally see again, I noticed that an impossibly tall woman with hair the color of liquid platinum was standing in my office. She regarded me with unfriendly emerald eyes.

"Right now works," she snorted.

I started, bolting out of my chair with a shout of surprise. Mister Whiskers squeaked in alarm and dashed into one of my desk drawers, somehow managing to slam it shut behind him.

"Oh, calm down," she rolled her jewel-colored eyes at my discomfort. "Now is as good a time as any. Clearly, you're not busy or you wouldn't have called me and I was about to go $500 in at the high stakes Black Jack table, so…I just saved myself some money and you some boredom."

I had to admit she had a point. Her attention to detail was disturbingly good. Still…I found myself struggling to calm my pounding heart.

There was a knock at my door and I excused myself to answer it. I opened the door a crack and saw Paul fidgeting in his shoes. "Everything okay in there?"

I noticed how he peaked over my shoulder and then nodded, as if confirming something to himself. "I heard you shout as I passed by your door. Surprise guest?"

I nodded silently and Paul gave me a sympathetic smile. "I'll ask her to set up an appointment next time. Poor impulse control with that one… I'll let Hank know that you're all tied up at the moment."

"Thanks," was all I managed before he walked off and I shut my door again. I turned back to my new client.

"Sorry about that. You're right," I stated, getting back on track with our conversation. "Now works, although in the future you will need to set up an appointment first."

Boundaries first, I reminded myself silently. Especially with someone with poor impulse control.

She nodded. "Fine. But you can see me now?"

"I can," I replied, taking my seat again and offering her one of the chairs in front of my desk. "So, Tyche, before we get started, I wanted to elaborate that, yes, I am in the know. I know why some of the Greek gods are seeking therapy and why I'm involved, so you don't need to worry about holding back in session. If you feel comfortable, could you please tell me what's going on and why you feel you need therapy?"

She took her time rolling this information around in her head.

"Alright. There are two reasons why I need therapy. One…Zeus is making me. And two…it's a simple thing, really…it's the economy," she stated and I noticed her eyes begin to tear up.

"The economy?" I asked.

"I am the goddess of prosperity, fortune, and chance, to name a few of my domains. I am usually tied in with the economic well-being of the state. After Greece fell thousands of years ago, I started jumping around to different countries and tried my hand at obtaining indirect worship by throwing my lot in with different economic systems. Eventually I made my way to the U.S. and gave the Stock Market a shot. When the market crashed recently, I did too… " Tyche whimpered and blew her nose into a tissue that she had pulled out of her purse. "What's worse? The bank bailouts, the debt talks…nothing improves the economy anymore..."

I nodded. "We're just going up and down, aren't we?"

"I'd say more down than up! And I thought we were in trouble back in the 1930s… At least the Great Depression actually ended!" My client's face suddenly flushed with anger.

Her moods were as mercurial as the economy itself.

"I agree completely… It has been awful lately," I offered empathetically. "So, instead of waiting on the economy, you switched to gambling?"

"Goddess of chance," she answered. "Figured I'd try my own luck."

"And how did that turn out?" I prompted.

"I'm about one-hundred, forty thousand in the hole…so I'd say pretty bad," she sighed and then narrowed her eyes suddenly. "And none of the other gods will bail me out."

I tried not to let my dread show on my face. One-hundred and forty thousand dollars? I couldn't even begin to fathom what I would do with that kind of money… "I'm sorry to hear that… It sounds like things aren't going so well for the gods these days." I really had nothing else I could say to that, I couldn't speak for ancient deities and divine bail outs, so I tried something else. "I do have an idea, if you are willing."

Tyche flattened her hands on my desk and leaned forward, suddenly interested.

"I think the most important thing right now would be staunching the flow of money out of your bank accounts—"

"Bank accounts?" she croaked. "Hah! I blew through those funds back in 2009! No honey, I'm using loans these days."

I could feel the blood drain from my face. "Okay," I swallowed and tried again. "So it would be important to staunch the borrowing because it will only increase your debt."

The goddess glared down her nose at me. "You want me to stop gambling? Are you joking? How am I supposed to survive?"

"Well, I've been told that the gods need newer, healthier forms of indirect worship, so we'll just have to find something that works better for you," I offered.

"Oh, easier said than done!" she spat. "Do you have some brilliant idea that can save me, mortal therapist?"

My mind drew a blank for a moment and I found myself sweating under my client's heated stare. Not wanting to look her directly in the eyes while I wracked my brains for an answer, I eyed the desk drawer that Mister Whiskers had darted into, envying him in that moment…and then my phone saved me.

I glanced at Tyche apologetically as the electronic device sang its siren song. "Sorry…this normally doesn't happen when I have a regularly scheduled appointment for someone. Do you mind if I take this?"

The goddess shrugged nonchalantly.

"Hello, this is Andrea," I answered.

"Andrea, it's Paul again," came the response. "Check your email. I sent you a link that might help with your client."

I quirked an eyebrow up and opened the latest email in my Outlook inbox. There was a link that read wizards dot com. When I clicked on it, it pulled up a website for a role playing game called Dungeons and Dragons. The name was familiar…I know I had heard of it somewhere before.

"Show that to her. See if you can get her to join an Encounters group."

My jaw dropped as I skimmed the site quickly. This was perfect. It might actually work…if the goddess-client was willing…

"This is kind of unorthodox, but thank you, Paul," I replied.

"You're not completely alone in this, Andrea," he stated.

I smiled. "That means a lot. I'll catch you later."

"Bye."

And then I hung up the phone.

"Sorry, that was one of my bosses," I explained as I returned my attention to Tyche.

The goddess nodded silently and I eyed my client for a moment.

"Tyche, do you like dicing games?"

Her eyes sparkled with gambler's lust for a moment. "Yes, I do. Why?"

"There's a game that I think you might like that uses dice, luck, and chance, but doesn't involve money. It's called Dungeons and Dragons," I explained.

Tyche gave me a funny look. "Dungeons and what?"

"Dungeons and Dragons. It's a role playing game," I explained. "Take a look here."

I turned my computer screen around so that the goddess-client could see the Wizard's website clearly. "You should be able to get a lot of information off of their official website. If you're interested in playing, you can join one of their Encounters groups."

"Is this what your phone call was about?" she asked, suddenly wary.

I nodded. "I won't hide things from you… Yes, one of the guys in HR thought that you might like the game. Seems someone wants to bail you out in other ways."

Tyche pressed her lips together, but said nothing as she scanned the front page. "You seem to know a bit about this game... Have you played it before?"

I shook my head. "No… All I know is what I was able to read before showing you the website. I think that some of my friends play, but I'm not one-hundred percent sure about that… From what I gather, it looks like you make a character, join up with other peoples' characters, and go on adventures."

"So you and this other HR person…'Paul' I believe is what you called him…thought it might work for me," she snorted, cutting me off.

A sigh escaped me involuntarily. Apparently this case wasn't going to be easy either… I spread my hands in a placating gesture. "I guess we did. Do you have any better ideas?"

The goddess of luck eyed me for a moment. I couldn't tell if she wanted to squash me like a bug or if I had somehow impressed her by being nearly as blunt as she had been during our surprise session together.

"Hm…"

My client grabbed my mouse without asking and started scrolling around the website. I could hear her clicking on various links, her eyes darting here and there. She read impossibly fast and it made me dizzy to watch her eyes move back and forth. After a few moments of silent reading, I got the impression that she was done talking and more interested in researching. So, I sat back in my chair and went through the drawers of my desk, pretending to be busy until Tyche was ready to come back to therapy.

It took a whole twenty minutes. Our session was nearly over.

"There's a group about fifteen minutes from my apartment. I think I'll give it a try," she declared, breaking the silence.

My eyes nearly shot out of my head. "R-really?"

The goddess shrugged. "Might as well. If I give up gambling, I have nothing better to do."

Hope washed over me. I could hardly believe my luck. "That sounds great! If you're okay with doing homework, would you mind going to a D&D game this week and writing how it went for our next session?"

Tyche considered my request for a moment. "I suppose I could write something."

"And if you find yourself tempted to gamble during the next week, you could always check out Gamblers Anon—"

"That's where I draw the line," she interrupted. "I'm not going to sit around with a bunch of losers, swapping sob stories about how much money we've blown."

I frowned, thinking of Dionysus in AA. He wasn't a loser. "Whatever works, right?"

The goddess snorted. "I suppose. But that's all I'm willing to do. A game of D&D and a little writing."

That was better than nothing. I would take it.

She got up out of her seat. "Give my regards to Poseidon for the idea."

My eyes widened. "Who?"

"'Paul,'" she clarified. "Hadn't figured that one out yet?"

I sighed.

Tyche grinned. "I'll call for an appointment next week."

And the goddess-client disappeared in that same blinding flash of light.


	20. Alcoholics Anonymous

A/N: I did it again! I know! Bad author! *smack* In other news, my fiancé and I have a new apartment! It is full of boxes, but here is an update for you guys while we make sense of this chaos that is our new home. :)

Chapter 20 – Alcoholics Anonymous

After my vision had cleared from Tyche flashing herself out of my office, I opened up the drawer that Mister Whiskers had been hiding in and reassured him that everything was fine. Then I ran off to go find Paul to offer a profuse amount of thanks.

Unfortunately, I ran straight into Hades.

"Watch where you're going!" He snarled and grabbed me by my arms to steady me.

I gasped at the sudden physical contact. Hank's hands were unusually warm; I could feel his body heat seep straight through the sleeves of my new shirt.

"I'm sorry! I…I was just heading over to see Paul…" I flushed with shame and looked away from his intense stare.

"My brother can wait. Is your session over?" he inquired, still holding me upright.

I nodded and began to fidget in his vice-like grip.

"Next time a client shows up like that, call me right away," he growled.

I could feel my eyes widen and I silently prayed that my boss wouldn't feel me trembling with fear. "Did I make a mistake? I was just trying to be accommodating…"

The god of the Underworld released his grip on me and I glanced up to find him eyeing me curiously. "No. You didn't know any better. For the future, I need to know when you're in session and who you are seeing so I can keep track of things," his voice trailed off awkwardly and he cleared his throat. "These clients are different, as I've said before. Just…keep me in the loop."

"I will," I promised, not quite sure what to make of the look on his face. "I'm sorry about that. I really didn't know…"

He didn't say anything to that. Instead, he steered me toward Paul's office before I had even thought to ask him where I could find his other brother and then walked away.

I knocked on Poseidon's door and heard a bark from inside to let myself in. Turning the door-knob, I entered the small office of the Greek god of the sea.

"Hi Paul, Poseidon…" I trailed off and blushed, completely lost on the whole name game.

He laughed heartily. "Either one is fine! How are you, Andrea?"

"I'm good," I admitted. "I just wanted to say thanks for the email that you sent."

"Ah, that was nothing. It was the least I could do after Tyche imposed herself on you."

I smiled softly, "It wasn't any trouble, although apparently Hades wasn't too happy about it…"

Poseidon looked serious for a moment. "Yeah…he had a few words with me about that… Sorry. I hope he didn't give you a hard time."

I shook my head. "No, he was fine with me. Well, except for the part where I nearly ran him down on my way to your office, but everything else was fine."

"Heh. Well, that's a relief," he smiled again. "I take it things went well with your client?"

I gave him a look that probably made me look like I was constipated.

"Oh! Therapist-client privilege…that's right. I'm sorry for asking," he chuckled. "That must have put you in an awkward position."

I breathed a sigh of relief. 'Awkward position' was an understatement. I could only imagine who would punish me worse for breaking confidentiality… My client…? Hades…? I shuddered.

"Well, I hope things went well. For all of our sakes," he smiled sadly.

"I do too…" I sighed and decided to change the subject before things got too heavy. "So, how did you know about Dungeons and Dragons? I thought you were the god of the sea and stuff." I eyed him warily.

Poseidon put a massive hand on his stomach and laughed until tears welled in his eyes. "God of the sea…and stuff? Hahaha! I like that. Oh Gods…" he wiped at his eyes. "How do I know about Dungeons and Dragons? Easy. I teach kids how to surf on the side. Some of my students play the game and after years of hearing about something, you learn a thing or two."

"Ah, that makes sense then," I nodded. "How neat! You teach kids to surf?"

"I do," he smiled. "That's how I get my indirect worship."

"Wow, not bad," I grinned.

"Not bad at all."

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Before I knew it, Dionysus was back in my office for session two.

"'We admitted we were powerless over alcohol. That our lives had become unmanageable.' That's step one!" he announced with pride. "I was really lucky I found a group that was on step one. It's, like, the easiest step!"

I quirked an eyebrow up at him. "Really? You think so?"

He nodded vigorously, a curl springing free of his hair tie and nearly stabbing him in the eye. The god batted the tendril away. "I do! I mean, I know a lot of people talked about how that's the hardest step, but for me? Well, I've been around a lot longer. It's not like I'm suddenly realizing I have a problem with drinking. I've known it for a very long time. I admit it to myself every day. I'm powerless over one of my own domains. It's kind of embarrassing."

I nodded encouragingly.

"And you want to talk about unmanageable lives? I'm about to lose my status as a god over my addiction problem. I got step one down pat!" he declared with a smile.

"Well, you should definitely consider this an accomplishment," I offered. "Not only did you go to the AA meeting like you said you would, but you seem to have enjoyed it and mastered the first step."

Dionysus' chest puffed up a little. "That's nice of you to say."

I watched as he suddenly reached into his jeans pocket. My client produced a small chip of sorts. Dionysus flicked the item at me and I caught it with both hands.

"What is this?" I asked.

"My thirty days of sobriety chip," he announced, beaming with pride. "I mean, I know I have more than that, but the next chip isn't given out until you hit six months."

I noticed how his expression darkened when he said that and jumped on it. "You sound…concerned."

Dionysus' characteristic smile faded. "Yeah…well…I just wonder if I'm going to make it that far… I've screwed this up so many times already…"

"Hey, you've come this far. Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Just one day at a time, okay?"

My client nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced.

"What sounds more do-able to you? 'I'm going to stay sober for today' or 'I'm going to stay sober for six months'?" I asked.

He cocked his to the left and considered my question. "The first one for sure. That's only one day."

I smiled. "And that's how you get to six months. Each day you tell yourself 'I'm going to stay sober for today' and before you know it, the days become weeks and the weeks become months—"

"And the months become years! And the years become decades! And the decades become centuries! And the centuries…sorry, getting ahead of myself again. I get it though," he grinned. "You know, this guy shared with us that night. He's mortal and he has twenty-five years of sobriety! Can you believe it? I've never been sober that long in my entire life! It was really neat." Dionysus wiggled in his chair.

I leaned forward in mine, which I had moved from behind my desk to sit across from him before he showed up that day. "So, would it be safe to assume that you might become a regular attending member?"

"No way. AA sucks and I'm totally never going back there," he snorted, suddenly becoming deadly serious…and then he winked at me, breaking out into a grin. I seriously wondered how long he could keep his face straight for and a small part of me determined that I never wanted to know the answer to that question. "It was really cool! It gave me hope."

I clapped softly. "That's what it's meant to do."

"I know some people don't like AA," he continued, and my thoughts flashed back to Tyche mocking Gamblers Anonymous. "Hells, I thought I'd hate it, but it was really refreshing. I felt…good. For the first time in years."

"That's fantastic!" I cheered my client and handed back his sobriety chip. "Did anyone offer to be your sponsor?"

"My what?" my client's eyes widened as he slipped his chip back into his pocket. "Oh wait… I think someone did, but I told him I wasn't interested."

My jaw dropped. "Why did you do that?"

"Because…I didn't know what a sponsor was and I didn't want to admit it. I felt dumb…" he explained, pouting a little.

I offered a sympathetic smile. "No one would think you're dumb for not knowing that. You're new to the whole scene. I can tell you what a sponsor is, if you like."

Dean nodded vigorously.

"A sponsor is someone in recovery who has made some progress on the road to sobriety. It's common for them to have at least a year of sobriety under their belt, but it's not a requirement. They are supposed to be a source of support, like a guide or mentor. A lot of my old clients really benefitted from having a sponsor to rely on when the urge to use would come up again."

"Oh," he said. "That makes sense now… Man, now I have to go find that guy and tell him I'm sorry. I wonder if he'd still be my sponsor."

"We can make that your homework assignment, if you like?" I asked.

Dionysus raised an eyebrow. "Make what my assignment?"

"Find a sponsor," I clarified.

"That works!" he declared. "Speaking of homework, here is my trigger list."

The god handed me a crumpled piece of paper. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'd prefer it if you read it later…" he sighed.

Because we were running out of time and because I was still working on building our rapport, I decided to honor his small request. "Sure, no problem."

Dionysus visibly relaxed. "Say…did my drug test results come back yet?"

I smiled softly, placing the wadded paper ball on my desk. "I was waiting for you to ask. They're in and they're negative."

My client jumped out of his chair with a shout. "Yes! Awesome! I knew it!" He paused suddenly in his revelry. "Um…you don't think I'm crazy now, do you?"

I shook my head. "No no…I've had a lot of reassurance since our last session."

Dean nodded. "Good. So, same time next week?"

"Sounds good," I confirmed.

Dionysus left my office with a little bounce in his step and I unfolded the wadded paper that the god-client had used to write his homework on. The list of triggers that lead the Greek god of the grape to drink read:

Bars

Clubs

Drinking dreams

Seeing old drinking pals

Frat parties

Advertisements for alcohol

Alcohol aisles at grocery stores

Seeing drunks passed out on the street

Hearing the regretful prayers of drunken mortals

Red plastic cups

Just being Me…

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest. Poor Dean…


	21. Weekend

A/N: And here's the latest! Thank you to all the people who have reviewed and to those who have added me to their faves and alerts. :) Much appreciated!

Chapter 21 – Weekend

I gathered up my belongings at the end of the day and debated how I was going to handle taking care of Mister Whiskers over the weekend. Arson would be less than pleased with an undead rat hanging around the house, but could I really just leave the poor thing at work? I put him in my purse, resolving to take him home and figure things out later. Then I swung by Zeus' office.

He opened the door almost as soon as I had finished knocking on it.

"I'm heading out for the weekend," I stated. "Just wanted to see if you needed anything before I left."

The king of the Greek gods returned my smile and patted me on the head. If he were anyone else, I would have felt like he was patronizing me. Instead, it felt almost fatherly.

"All's well over here, Andrea," he announced. "Hope to see you Monday."

I blinked and smoothed my hair back into place. "You hope?"

"I'm still praying we don't scare you off with all of these problems," he winked at me.

I shook my head. "No way. I expected way worse."

His smile looked strained for a moment and then he patted me on the head again. "Right. Well, have a good weekend then. I envy you a little, getting to take two days off a week. That must be nice."

I nodded with his hand still on top of my hair, undoubtedly messing it up again. "It is. You should try it sometime!"

He chuckled. "I'll think about it…"

Then it was off to Paul's office.

"I'm about to leave, Paul. Did you need anything?" I piped up after letting myself into his office.

"Nope," he replied. "You take care."

"Any neat plans for the weekend?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

He thought for a minute, fingering his seashell necklace absently. "I have…four lessons planned for the weekend. Two of them are new students."

I grinned. "That sounds great!"

"It is!" he declared. "You surf?"

I paled a bit. "Heh…no… I'm way too uncoordinated for that."

"Well, you're always welcome to come watch. Perhaps one day I can convince you to give it a try. Won't even charge you for the lesson!" His smile broadened.

"Aw, that's really nice of you!"

Poseidon chuckled. "Haha, not entirely…seeing you in a—"

"Ahem!" came a superficial cough from right behind me.

I spun around to find Hank glaring daggers at his brother.

"That's quiet the offer, brother. And I don't think it needs expanding on if we're to maintain professional boundaries here."

The beach bum god shifted in his shoes. "Right…"

I blinked up at my supervisor dumbly. "Uh…what?"

The god of the underworld looked down at me like I was mentally handicapped and he was barely tolerating me. "Never you mind, Andrea. Are you done for the day?"

"Yeah, I am." I took a step backward into Paul's office to distance myself from Hades. That gaze of his was unnerving me once again. "I was just coming around to see if you all needed anything else before I left. I was going to come see you next…"

Hank eyed me silently and I too began to fidget uncomfortably…until I decided to break the tension. "So…do you surf too, Hank?"

That made one of his black eyebrows shoot up. "No. No, I don't."

Paul chuckled. "That would be a sight to see! So, what are you doing this weekend, Hades?"

My boss frowned. "I have sessions scheduled with some of my clients."

I grinned up at him. "Ooo! I wish I could sit in on one of your sessions! I bet you're an awesome grief counselor."

Hank looked like I'd just slapped him in the face, but then his expression nearly dissolved into a smile, which he quickly covered up by coughing uncomfortably into his closed fist. It made me wonder if he might not be used to receiving compliments… And that thought made me feel sad…

"Er…well, yes, I am. And I'll consider it. It might actually be good for you to observe a few sessions with a licensed professional."

Before I could give a whoop of excitement, Zach strolled up. "Could you sound any more clinical about it? Jeez... Apparently we all need some time off. Let's get out of here."

OoOoOoOoOoO

I got a text from Patty Saturday morning at around ten o'clock.

'_Testing testing…1…2…3!'_

With my head still buried in my pillow, my hand smacked around on my nightstand before it found my iPhone. I texted back.

'_Who is this?'_

The reply came almost immediately.

'_Patty, duh! :P'_

I smiled. '_What's up?'_

'_Want to get coffee? I promise not to spill it on you this time.' _

That got me up and out of bed.

'_Sure.' _I texted back._ 'Where did you want to get coffee at?'_

'_How about the scene of the crime? There's a mall nearby and I owe you a new shirt.'_

'_Sounds good. Meet in an hour?'_

'_Sure. :D'_

Before I dashed off to the bathroom to get ready, I poked Arson, who was still sleeping beside the spot I had just vacated. He grumbled unhappily. He was still angry with me for bringing Mister Whiskers home. Those two had spent hours fighting and chasing each other around the house last night, which ultimately led to Arson giving up…given his mortal limitations. I gave him an apologetic smile and then ran to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"Zach is really nice, but seems convinced I'm not going to come back to work one day. I think he fears I'll just burn out and bail on the treatment center. Paul…might have just hit on me before I left for the day yesterday… I'm still not one-hundred percent sure on that because Hank interrupted him mid-sentence and looked like he wanted to skin Paul alive. From what I've already told you about Hank, it wouldn't surprise me to hear that he did such a thing one day."

"Hahaha!" Patty nearly snorted as she sipped her drink. "Wow, you work for some characters!"

"It's only my first week in that department too. How will I survive?" I grinned.

"And you thought the clients would be the worst of your problems, huh?" she teased.

I shook my head. "I had no idea…"

I relaxed further as Patty's laughter filled the patio area outside the coffee shop. Something about this woman just made me feel at ease and I found myself opening up to her more easily than I normally do with people. Not enough to break any kind of confidentiality with my clients, of course, but comfortable enough to talk about my work, my life, and myself.

"So, is this your first time doing therapy for people?" Patty asked, breaking the silence I had inadvertently let develop.

"Nope. I had an internship before this at a drug and alcohol recovery clinic. Totally different population from my current one. So, I feel as green as I did back then when I was just starting out," I frowned slightly. Funny how being a therapist works sometimes…

"Aw, don't worry too much about it," she reached across the table and squeezed one of my hands. "Despite how colorful HR sounds, it seems like you have a lot of support. And at the very least, you have a supervisor."

I nodded. "That's true."

"So…" she purred suddenly, her eyelids lowering dangerously. "Are any of those brothers in HR cute?"

I choked on the bite of croissant I'd just bitten off. Patty responded by laughing at me mockingly. "Got ya! But that sure was revealing."

Setting my breakfast down on my plate, I eyed her with false wariness. "You're dangerous. You should probably be a therapist too."

Patty winked at me.

"What do you do for a living anyway?" I asked.

"I run a flower shop," she replied. "I can give you a friends-and-family discount too!"

I smiled. "Sounds cool. I always envy people who can grow flowers. I can't seem to make anything grow."

Patty stuck her tongue out at me. "Oh please, anyone can make anything grow. All it takes is a little bit of know-how."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't seem to have the so-called know-how, then."

"Then I'll come over one day and I'll show you how," she announced decidedly.

My eyes widened slightly. "Just inviting yourself over like that?"

She smirked. "You're not refusing."

I shook my head. "That's true. I'm not."

"Come on!" she exclaimed, standing up and grabbing her drink. "Let's hit the mall and get you a new shirt!"

OoOoOoOoOoO

As is the case with most weekends, mine reached its end far too quickly. Spending time with Patty had been the highlight of it all and now I had a nice, new, formal, pastel pink shirt to wear to work tomorrow. But it was suddenly Sunday night and I had just turned my bedside lamp off. I snuggled down into my blankets with Arson and Mister Whiskers, who both seemed to have made their peace with each other…when a loud pounding echoed up the stairs from my front door.

"What the heck?" I grumbled, snatching up my alarm clock to verify that it really was 12:21AM.

Arson growled from the depths of the blankets and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. The pounding continued.

I got out of bed and threw on one of the robes I'd left crumpled on the floor from earlier that week. Reaching into the drawer of my nightstand, I withdrew my mace and a small pocket knife, tucking the latter into the front of my robe. Then I tried my best to walk stealthily down the stairs and to my front door.

"Open the damn door, Andrea!" came a very familiar voice.

Unfortunately my door didn't have a peephole… And it was far too late at night for me to trust anyone, familiar-sounding or not, to open my door.

"W-who is it?" I asked, trying to fake a confidence I did not feel. Something felt…wrong.

"It's…Hank. I need to talk to you."

"At midnight!" I shot back.

I heard someone sigh on the other side of the door. It definitely sounded like my boss…

"Put the mace down and take that stupid knife out of your robe before you stab yourself with it and let me in."

Well, that proved it… I opened the door and found my supervisor standing on my doorstep. For once, he looked…messy. His long, black hair was tangled and he was wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt that had seen too many washes.

"Uh…Hades?"

My boss walked past me and into my living room without a word. I shut the door and turned to him.

"What's going on?" I asked, shaking a little.

"He relapsed," my boss announced, rubbing his temples like he was trying to relieve the tension of a massive migraine.

"Wait… Who…? Oh God…Dean…?"

The Greek lord of the underworld nodded into his hands. "He texted me from a bar. Said he was in trouble. I was sleeping, but showed up anyway and now he's refusing to talk to anyone."

I walked toward my boss and took the knife out of my robe and set that and the mace down on the coffee table. "If he's refusing to talk to anyone…why are you here?"

"Because he says he'll only talk to you."


	22. Relapse

A/N: Eeeeh…took a little longer to update than I thought it would, but HEY! I found someone who I can commission to draw some of my characters! :D Happy day! And I may have had a birthday recently… Oh boy, another year older. :P

Chapter 22 – Relapse

I was reaching for my keys, which hung on a peg near the door, when Hank cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Um…you might want to get changed before we head out…"

Glancing down at myself, I realized I was clad in only my robe, which fell to mid-thigh and scooped dangerously low in the front. "Oh…holy…"

I didn't finish my sentence. I felt my face burning and ran upstairs to remedy the problem. Then I rejoined my boss downstairs.

He was pulling a set of keys out of his pocket. I still couldn't get over how disheveled he looked.

"I'm driving," he stated simply.

Hank had to nearly carry me into the passenger's seat of his Lamborghini because I froze on the doorstep when I saw it.

"Is that a…a…a…?"

"Yes, it is," he sighed. "Now move."

We rode in silence mostly because my boss wasn't talking. I could hear him grinding his teeth though and tried my best to get comfortable in the insanely expensive leather seat I was in. Before long, we were at Yardhouse.

I got out of the car and eyed the restaurant. "He's in there?"

The Greek god nodded. "Yeah, follow me."

We blew past the hosts and Hank stopped, pointing toward the bar. "He's over there."

What I saw nearly broke my heart. Dean was sitting at the bar with three empty glasses in front of him. His head rested on his folded arms and, to anyone around him, he appeared to be sleeping, but the slight tremor of his back made it obvious to me that he was hiding the fact that he was crying…

We walked over to him and Hank shoved people out of the way to give us some space. I tried to ignore the rude things that were said to him in response. I sat down next to my client.

"Dean?"

I heard a sniffle from the depths of his folded arms. My stomach clenched. I was acutely aware of the fact that Hades was right behind us. It made me extremely nervous to do intervention in front of a god who also did therapy…and probably a lot better than I did. Still…I had to try…

"Is that you, Dean? I heard you wanted to talk to me."

He turned his head slightly in my direction and I saw one blood-shot eye peer at me from under the massive mop of curly hair that he hadn't thought to tie back as per usual. A tear escaped down his cheek and he buried his face back into the crook of his arm.

"What have I done?" he sobbed.

I put a hand on his back and wondered if my boss would judge me for using physical contact as an intervention tool. There is a lot of debate in the field about touch being appropriate or inappropriate, especially with opposite sex therapists and clients… What if Hades was completely against it and thought I'd made a mistake?

"Stop that," came Hank's harsh voice.

I glanced up at him and trembled a little when I met those gray eyes of his. "Stop what?"

"Those thoughts of yours," he grumbled.

"How did you-?"

"I don't need the power to read minds to know that you're off your game with nerves right now and probably because I'm here."

My eyes widened, but I said nothing.

"Just remember, despite all of my experience, Dean wanted to talk to you. Not me. You. Now do your job."

I nodded dumbly and turned to find my god-client looking at me again. "You came."

"I did," I stated. "I heard you were in trouble."

He sighed heavily. "I'm in deep…"

"What happened?" I asked.

"Some friends posted on Facebook that they wanted to go to Yardhouse for dinner… I said I'd go. I thought I'd be fine because I've been sober for a while… But when they wanted to leave, I said I wanted to stay and watch the game. It was a lie…I wanted to be around the alcohol…and when the waitress brought me a drink…said it was from some cute girls across the bar…well, I just had to…"

He was surprisingly articulate for an inebriated deity.

I rubbed his back a little. "Relapses happen, Dean. It's actually part of the recovery process."

His head shot up. "All I do is relapse! When the hell am I going to recover?" Then his eyes widened. "Oh no…oh no no no…" he moaned and turned to look at Hades. "You're here. You're going to tell my father and I'm going to be stripped of my god status and we're all going to be doomed."

My eyes widened and I too glanced at my boss.

His eyes had lost some of the harshness that they'd held earlier. "I won't say anything."

I think my client and I both gasped in shock.

"I'm not going to say anything because you have shown some improvements that we have not seen in centuries and unless your father demands that we break confidentiality, I will not let on that anything is wrong. This was a mistake, yes, but you can come back from it."

I smiled at Hank and then turned to Dean. "See? If he doesn't think it's the end of the world, then it really must be just a mistake."

My client buried his head in his arms again. "I'm so scared… Just so scared. I don't want to lose my status…or have to remove myself from this world. It's the most terrifying thought I have on a daily basis. It's one thing to be forgotten by humanity, but to not be able to be among them? To see them? To touch them? To hear them? Gods have mercy…"

His shoulders shook as a fresh sob escaped him.

"You need to calm yourself, Dean. Those thoughts will not help you recover from a relapse." I was about to let my hand drop off of his back, when he turned suddenly and grabbed it in both of his.

"Please help us, Andrea. Please."

My eyes widened, but I didn't pull my hand away. "That's the plan, Dean. I'll do my best."

It seemed to placate him and he released my hand. "I'll do my best too. My sponsor told me I could do 90-90 and see if that helps."

I quirked an eyebrow up at my client. "Your sponsor?"

Dean smiled a little. "Yeah, I did my homework. Probably should have called him before I drank, but I called him before you guys showed up and he said everything would be okay and that he'd support me doing 90 meetings in 90 days. Says it helps a lot of people who are in the early phase of recovery."

I beamed at Dionysus. "I think that would be a wonderful idea and I'm so proud of you for getting a sponsor. He sounds like a great guy!"

The god-client nodded. "He is… He's the guy I blew off by accident that one time, but I saw him at the meeting yesterday and asked him about sponsorship."

My boss slapped a hand on Dean's shoulder, nearly toppling my client out of his chair. The expression on his face was friendly though. "There. See? Improvement. You do your 90-90 and we'll consider this a non-issue, huh?"

The young god smiled nervously back at my boss. "Yeah, sure. That'd be totally cool."

Hades flagged down a bartender and slapped his black card on the counter. "I've got his tab."

Dean was about to protest, but I shook my head at him and he kept his mouth shut. When the king of the underworld was done paying for my client's mistake, he turned to us. "I'll drive us all home. Let's get out of here."


	23. A New Case

A/N: I'm alive! Just got out of surgery about 14 hours ago and am doing pretty well. I realized I had some material I could post! I mostly edited this and added a little at the bottom. I apologize for how short and/or crappy it might be. Better posts to come as I recover. :)

Chapter 23 – A New Case

When Hades dropped me off, it was nearly three in the morning.

"Take tomorrow off. You need to sleep," he'd stated simply.

My eyes were stinging from the lack of rest, but still managed to bulge at his comment. "But…I'm still so new to the job. Wouldn't it look bad if I took a Monday off so soon?"

He'd just rolled his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot. "I'm HR, Andrea. I'm telling you not to come in."

Then he shoved me across my threshold and closed the door.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I really had no choice but to listen to Hank. So, I stayed home and slept in. Around noon, I was starving and shot Patty a text.

_Hey, I've got the day off. Lunch?_

She responded almost immediately. _How funny, me too! Want me to pick you up?_

I relished the idea of not having to drive, as I was still drained from last night's surprise session. _Sounds good!_

And then I sent her my address.

_See you soon! ;D_

Without even realizing it, I spent the entire day with Patty. We grabbed lunch at Nordstrom Café and then she dragged me to a Green Thumb, where we spent way too much money on plants she insisted I would not be able to kill. Then we spent the rest of the day arranging the plants in my apartment and going over all of the ways to care for each one. Thankfully, Arson kept Mister Whiskers company upstairs, as neither one came down to visit Patty. That worked for me, as I certainly didn't have a viable excuse for Mister Whisker's current state of…existence.

When night crept up on us, Patty invaded my kitchen and whipped up an amazing chicken Caesar salad for us.

"You don't really cook for yourself, do you?" she teased as we ate our dinner together at my dinner table.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"There's dust on this table and a stack of empty TV dinner boxes in your trashcan over there," she winked as she took a sip of her glass of water.

I blushed. "Oh…right. Yeah…no time, no energy, no talent."

"This salad took me twenty minutes tops. I can show you some quick, filling meals if you like."

"I'd like that," I smiled at her.

"Me too."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

That night I had a dream that I was on a beach with white sand and crystal clear waters…and I was with a woman who looked a lot like Patty, but she was different. She looked younger and older at the same time, but she wasn't wearing any clothes. She was holding my hand.

Instead of being completely freaked out by this, I noticed that I felt completely calm…happy even. Until she leaned over and kissed me. Then my stomach clenched, as fear and confusion washed over me. A sense of dread settled over me like a big, black cloak. But I kissed her back anyway…

I woke up suddenly and resolved not to tell Hank about that particular dream…

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

When I returned to work the next day, Hank was waiting for me with a new file. We walked into my office and he tossed it on my desk.

"For your display of competence on Sunday, I've decided to give you another case. A more difficult one," he announced.

I blinked at him and then turned to look at the file. "So…for doing a good job, I'm being rewarded with…more work?"

The Lord of the Underworld looked at me like I should have understood his logic perfectly.

"Right…" I sighed and opened the file. "Ares? The God of War?"

Hades nodded. "He'll be a tough one and I might need to sit in on some of your sessions, but I think you can handle Gods in crisis now."

I rubbed my forehead. That made three Gods in my caseload now… Dionysus, Tykhe, and Ares.

"Does he have an appointment yet?" I asked.

"No, I'll have you call him. Establish a rapport over the phone, if you can, and try to get him to come in."

Then he turned on his heel, which was encased in a new set of what I guessed to be obscenely expensive leather shoes, and marched out of my office.

"Ares…retired war veteran…" I purred to myself and scanned the intake session notes. "Ares has PTSD? Oh awesome…"


	24. Building Rapport

A/N: I'm back! Seriously WTF? Since the last update it was literally recover from surgery, then a trip to Comic Con (no complaints!), then another medical procedure, then a trip to the east coast, and now I'm preparing for another medical procedure! Hopefully I can catch a break and relax some! And before anyone freaks out, on the medical end of things all is well thus far. And I anticipate a double update this week. :) So, here is update #1! R&R!

Chapter 24 – Developing Rapport

Ares answered his phone on the second ring.

"Yeah?"

I balked for a moment. "Is this…Andrew?"

"Speaking," came his brusque response.

I took a deep breath. "Hi Andrew, my name is Andrea. I'm one of the counselors here at Hope Treatment Center. I was told to call you to set up an appointment. How did you feel about coming in sometime this week?" Then I held my breath.

"I don't know…" he hesitated.

"Were you not interested in counseling?" I asked.

"No, it's not that… I just don't think therapists can help me."

My heart sank. "I take it you've been to therapy before?"

"Many many times…" he sighed on the other line. "But I suppose to keep my dad off my back, I should show up."

"Your dad?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"If you want some free advice, Andrew…if you come in for therapy for someone else, you will most definitely not see any improvements," I ventured. "Might as well not waste your time or money."

He was silent for a long while and I thought I'd lost him.

"You're actually telling me not to come in?"

"If that's the only reason you'd be coming in, then yes," I stated as casually as I could. To be completely honest, I was shaking in my seat. If I blew this, Hades would probably be less than please with me…

"Huh, you got a point, lady."

Well, there goes my chance at building a rapport…

Ares coughed on the other line. "And yet…I like that you're willing to turn me away instead of try and suck me in and take my money for the usual lack of results."

My eyes widened. I had a chance? "Well Andrew, I value my time and I value yours as well. If I think you won't be getting anywhere in therapy, it would be completely unethical to take your money. You should get something out of this. What would you like to get out of therapy? I mean, ideally?"

He thought for a moment. I could almost hear the gears in his head turning. "Ideally… I'd like to be able to live a normal life again. Not jump at shadows. Not have nightmares. Ideally… I'd like to be fit to serve again. To defend my country."

"That sounds really nice, Andrew."

"I gave up those hopes a long time ago though…especially being able to serve again. Fuck, at this point, I'd settle for just a decent night's rest," Ares sighed into the phone.

I rolled this around in my mind for a moment. "I could try to help you with the nerves and the sleeping problem. As far as being fit to serve again, that would be a very long-term goal, and I don't want to make any false promises to you, Andrew, but maybe…maybe that could be a possibility if we manage to clear up some of these other complaints you have and then it would be up to the military, not me."

There was another long pause. "Okay… I think I'd like to come in then. For me, I mean. I want to work on those two smaller issues for now."

I pulled up my calendar. "That sounds great! How about Thursday? Two days from now?"

"Yeah, sure. Can I come in at two?"

"Sure," I replied.

"Thanks Andrea. See you then."

Click.

Someone started clapping slowly and my head snapped up. My boss was standing in my doorway.

"Good work. That was the easy part."

And then he left.

I resisted the urge to throw my pencil holder at the door.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Tyche was in my office again and much friendlier this time around. Although she hadn't done her writing assignment, she was willing to discuss in detail her experiences with D&D.

"It was interesting. I made a devoted cleric of Tymora, after I found out she is considered the goddess of luck, and brought my character sheets to the meet up. I made a lot of friends…though considering I was one of the few females there…I wasn't really surprised. A few guys invited me into their group and showed me how to play." She chuckled to herself.

"Awesome!" I cheered my client. "And how did it feel to play? Did you get anything out of it…you know, like indirect worship?"

She nodded. "It did fulfill me a bit. Nothing like the old days, but I can see where you and Poseidon were going with this when you guys suggested it."

Tyche actually looked different, at least to me. Almost radiant. Almost…there was still a little darkness under her eyes and she appeared tired.

"Were you able to stay away from the casino?" I asked.

"Thankfully, yes. I had to do a lot of research on the campaign setting and it took a while to figure out how to build my character. Though… I worry that once I figure this game out, I'll find myself with more time on my hands…"

I nodded. "You probably will. So, what do you think you can do to resist the temptation to gamble when you find yourself with more time on your hands?"

The goddess thought for a moment. "I really don't know. I feel like I just need to fill the space, at least for now."

I nodded. "I agree. Gambling is an addiction, just like drinking or drug use. Sometimes, if you can't think of any coping skills to get you through the lulls of life, filling the void with something…anything…can be the best form of coping. So, what can you do to fill the space?"

Her platinum brows knit together. "I…I really need money. Maybe I should look for a job?"

"That could be a good idea. The job search would definitely suck up some free time initially," I agreed.

"But I can't look for work all day and night…"

I shook my head, "No, you can't. So, right now we have 'D&D' and 'look for work' as your positive coping. What else can we add?"

The goddess-client rubbed her forehead in frustration. "I really don't know…"

"Well," I pondered aloud, "what are some things you used to enjoy before this whole thing started?"

She looked pensive for a moment. "Going for walks through the city… I'd wander the streets and marvel at the prosperity of my cities."

"Do you think you can still do that? I mean, you do that 'woosh' thing to travel around…why not use that to visit cities that are doing well?"

She smirked at me. "'Woosh' thing?"

I narrowed my eyes playfully. "You know what I mean. Let's say you finished a game, spent some time looking for work, and find yourself with too much time and you begin to feel tempted…'woosh' and you're in Dubai or something."

Tyche barked out a genuine laugh.

"You're not giving me much on your end, Tyche! All these 'I don't know's, I have to suggest something!" I giggled back.

"No no…I get it. It's a good idea. And yes, I can 'woosh' to different locations. That actually sounds nice. I haven't been to Dubai in a while."

"So for homework…?" I ventured.

"You really like homework, don't you?" she glared at me.

I shrugged. "It's my therapeutic background. If you don't want to do homework, then that's perfectly fine. Some clients love it, others don't. It's just something you can do if you need further distraction or want to work on yourself between sessions."

"Eh," she waved me off. "I'll just do stuff and tell you about it."

"That's perfectly fair," I offered. "Same time next week?"

"Yeah, that should give me enough time to get in another D&D session, look for work, and 'woosh' to Dubai or something."

And then she wooshed out of my office.


	25. Previous Engagement

A/N: Holy crap… I am so sorry I have been away for so long. Too much going on. Too much to even go into in an Author's Note. But I made a conscious decision to engross myself back into my hobbies for my own sanity's sake. And thus…a chapter is born. Hope you're all still around! I'll be getting back to all messages that have been sent to me in due time as well. Thank you all who checked in during my sudden hiatus. :)

Chapter 25 – Previous Engagement

Near the end of the day, Hank pulled me into his office.

"Sometime this week I'd like for you to sit in and observe one of my grief sessions."

"Wow really?" I could feel my eyes light up. "Like, you're serious?"

He nodded slowly. "I think it would be good for you to see, since…a lot of the Gods you'll be seeing are dealing with sadness, grief, and, in some cases, severe depression."

I frowned. "I thought as much… I mean, I can't even begin to imagine how terrible it must feel to lose all of your followers… You guys still exist, clearly…but to be completely forgotten must be-"

"We're not completely forgotten," he interrupted me suddenly and walked back to his desk. "You can go home now, if you want."

I sensed the topic had taken a turn he did not wish to go in, so I took his advice and headed for the door.

"Good night…Lord Hades…"

I shut the door before he could reply.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"So," Patty asked over a plate of chicken alfredo she'd whipped up for the two of us. "Are you seeing anyone these days?"

I nearly choked. "Seeing anyone?"

"You know, like dating anybody?" she clarified.

"Oh, right…dating… No. I've been single for almost a year now…" I looked away, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

"Wow, almost a year? And no dates?" she sounded incredulous. "Surely that's by choice and not by lack of interest from others."

I shrugged, refusing to make eye contact. "It's a choice. I'm on a couple of dating sites and get messaged every so often, but I never reply. I'm just not ready, I guess."

"May I ask why?" Her tone was painfully soft.

I didn't want to go there…but I trusted Patty. It was a strange feeling. I could feel myself resisting, hesitating, and yet longing to tell her. The awful reality of being a therapist: Painfully aware of ourselves and yet still subject to the flaws of our personality.

"Eh…it was almost a year ago… I was engaged," I sighed. I could feel Arson rubbing around my ankles, comforting me.

"Oh!" Patty gasped.

"He was a doctor at a psychiatric hospital…spent long hours at work…and even longer hours with the nursing staff. Stupid me, I was the last to know." My face burned with shame…still…after all these long months.

I felt her warm hand close around my wrist. "How does that make you stupid?"

"I'm a shrink. All I do is analyze people, their words and their actions. How could I have missed that?"

I met Patty's equally warm eyes. "Being a therapist in love makes you human. It doesn't make you stupid."

"Thanks for that…" I sighed and smirked at her. "Again…you really should get into mental health, Patty."

"I love my plant shop too much to give it up," she smiled. "But I am truly sorry he betrayed your trust like that… That's horrible."

I smiled sadly. "We'd already made the announcement and had some reservations set. It was pretty embarrassing to tell everyone 'Oh hey, nevermind…and also, can I get my money back on that?' Can you believe some places actually refused?"

Patty looked angry for me. It felt nice.

"If you give me his name, I'll make sure no one ever finds him again. We have very big pots at my store."

I burst out laughing.

"Ah, I wouldn't burden you with his presence…even his dead presence."

My friend smiled at me. "Well, that works out then. I'm very picky about my fertilizers, but if you change your mind, I might be able to suffer a pomegranate tree to break down his body."

I snorted on my laughter.

Patty smiled. "Honestly though, I hope you bounce back soon. I'm sure there are plenty of nice people out there willing to show you a good time."

I noticed her choice of words then. 'People,' not specifically 'men.' Yet, I didn't say anything about it. I nodded into my cup, as I took a long drag of some apple cider.

"I hope so too."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

When I got to work on Thursday, I went straight to Hank's office. I needed a referral for a psychiatrist…and not in the way I had when I first started my job as a therapist to the Greek Gods.

"Why?" he asked, narrowing those piercing gray eyes at me.

"Ares is being plagued with nightmares. I know there's a drug out there that can help with that," I shot back.

He nodded. "There is, but talk therapy can also help with nightmares and PTSD."

He paused long enough for me to present my rebuttal.

"It can, but Ares has been disappointed with therapy in the past. The medication would have very speedy results. It might restore his faith in our field if he sees improvement right away."

Hades held my gaze for an uncomfortably long time.

"I won't rely on the medication alone. I'll still treat the nightmares and PTSD with talk therapy and other therapeutic interventions, but I really want this for him and I need your help."

"And if I say no?" was his counter.

"That would be completely uncool of you," I frowned. "Are you just being contrary for the sake of being contrary?"

Hades' eyebrows shot up at that. "No, of course not. Why would I waste my breath on something so asinine? I'm questioning you because you have to be prepared to defend every action you take in the therapeutic setting. We don't just use certain techniques simply because we want to or prescribe various medications because we're being driven by our own desires. We need to be able to justify everything we do. Especially since our records can be subpoenaed."

I swallowed audibly. The idea of records going to court had always and probably would always terrify me.

"So, you're giving me such a hard time now because you want me to be able to…present a good case?" I ventured.

"Bingo," was his response.

I was about ready to pull my hair out…or his. "So? How did I do?"

Hades spun the back of his chair to me. "Good enough. I'll call the psychiatrist. Now I do believe your client is here."

I left before I got up the gumption to kick the back of his fancy chair.


	26. CBT

Chapter 26 – CBT

Ares looked anxious standing in my doorway. I took in the sight of the God of War. He was wearing black cargo pants that brushed the tops of his combat boots, and a red tank top that showed off his nicely sculpted chest and arms. It was easy to see why the Goddess of Love seemed to adore him so, but I quickly pushed that thought out of my head. Boundaries, dammit.

I invited him inside and offered him a seat. He sat stick-straight in the chair before my desk. His nearly flame-red hair was still cut in that tell-tale style that former Marines maintain after serving.

"Good afternoon, Andrew," I said.

"Hey," he sighed and became quiet again.

"Thank you for coming in. I realize that might have been a bit of a challenge."

He nodded. "I have to admit, I'm still kind of doubtful of this whole thing."

"I don't blame you. Therapy is all about having the right therapist. If you don't have a solid relationship with your therapist, nothing is going to happen."

He nodded again. "That's exactly what happened… It went nowhere. If anything, I feel like I got worse."

I nodded back, mimicking his body language. "It's quite possible. You lose faith in the system and lose someone to confide in. Do you talk to anyone about what you've been through?"

Ares shook his head. "No, not really. Most of the people I know…they know about it already, but they don't really want to discuss it with me. Seems to make them uncomfortable or they just don't get it because they never served."

"So then, when you lost faith in your therapist, a burden that was meant to be shared was put squarely back on your shoulders again."

"Yeah. That's pretty much it. I've been alone in this…"

He became quiet again and I let the silence settle over both of us for a few minutes.

"I wanted to ask you something, Andrew. I know this is the first time you're seeing me, but I figured I'd ask up front how you feel about medication."

The God of war looked suddenly wary. "I…I'm not sure. I've given shit to my fellow soldiers for taking meds before… Wouldn't that make my kind of a hypocrite?"

I frowned at him. "You're allowed to change your opinion about things, I would think, and it's not like you have to tell anyone you're taking medication."

I watched as he turned the idea over inside of his head. "What kind of medication?"

"I was thinking just one to target the nightmares. If you get to sleep well at night, it should improve the time you spend awake. At least a little bit, anyway."

Ares' eyes widened considerably. "There's a pill for nightmares?"

"Yep," I affirmed. "I've heard good things about it. If you're interested, you can see the psychiatrist after our session is over."

The God-client sat back in his chair and turned this idea over in his mind too. "I'd at least like to talk to the psychiatrist, I think."

I shrugged. "Sounds good to me. He can give you more information on the medication than I can and you can make your decision from there."

Ares nodded.

"No pressure though," I advised. "Even if you say 'no' to it today, you can always change your mind later on. We're not going to bar you from medication for one refusal."

He gave me a small smile. "Okay. That's reassuring."

Silence settled between us again.

Eventually I cleared my throat.

"So, now that we've addressed medication…do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your experiences?"

Ares shrugged. "Fire away."

"Do you ever experience flashbacks about what happened while you were in combat?"

"All the time," he sighed. "Sometimes during the most inconvenient times. You ever start screaming in your car because you heard someone's car accidentally rear-end another in a drive-through and it reminded you of that one time when your friend got shot while on patrol? Kind of sucks…"

I nodded. "I imagine it would… What about intrusive images, thoughts, or feelings?"

"I think about the wars all the time," he stated. "I get images of my fallen brothers and sisters flashing through my brain almost 24/7. Or I see all the times I've had guns aimed at my head by enemy soldiers. Those are the worst."

"And these images come all the time?" I asked for clarification.

"All the time," he stated.

"What about feeling anxious for no reason?"

"I think I get…panic attacks? Like, it gets hard to breathe sometimes, my heart starts pounding, and I feel like I'm dying…which makes no sense because…well…" He looked at me expectantly all of the sudden and I realized where the conversation was heading.

"I understand. I'm in the know."

"Thank the Gods…" he sighed. "My dad had mentioned you were, but I wasn't sure… So yeah, a God feeling like he's going to die. How pathetic. I also jump at every shadow. It's really embarrassing. I'm supposed to be the definition of 'warrior' and now I'm a wuss."

I gave him a hard look. "Having symptoms from trauma doesn't make you a wuss and I'm sure you know that. It just means you need to take better care of yourself. These symptoms can go away…in time."

"That's the bitch of it, isn't it? Time. It takes time. But time isn't something I have an infinite supply of anymore. I'm sure you've been told about what's going to happen to us if things don't change?"

I nodded.

"Yeah, I don't have time to be nuts anymore."

I nodded again. "So, we'll need to do some intensive therapeutic work that gives expedited results."

"I agree. But what?" he asked.

"Well, we'll start by seeing each other more than once a week. I personally would like to delve into some of the methods used in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. It's a theory that basically states that we have a thought or cognition, which then causes a feeling, which then inspires a certain behavior. These thoughts, feelings, and behaviors might be making our lives unmanageable, so the idea behind it is that if we can change our thoughts…we can change our lives. You can find any number of books on that therapeutic style in any bookstore. They should help explain not only the style, but also the logic and reasoning behind it even more. In fact, it might be good for you to grab up some of those books and workbooks, if you like, and read or work on them in your free time between sessions."

Ares nodded. "I'll look into it."

"I might also throw in some techniques that I feel will be helpful to you. We can start on one of those methods today, if you like. Then you can go home and practice it any time those intrusive images start to bother you."

The God-client's eyes widened with sudden interest. "It'd be worth a shot, I suppose."

Ares was proving to be far easier to handle than I had thought he would.

"This is a technique called Thought Stopping. Let's say you suddenly have an image of a dead friend pop into your mind. What you can do in that moment, if you are alone, is take your hands, slap them on a table, and shout 'stop' literally as loud as you can. The point of that is the pain in your hands…don't slap the table too hard and hurt yourself or the table…and the volume of your shouting should be enough to distract your mind away from that horrible image."

"Sounds silly…"

"Try it," I challenged.

Ares screwed his face up and closed his eyes. "I'm trying to see if I can visualize… Ah, there we go…" Then he slapped his hands on my desk and shouted, "Stop!" He opened his eyes and rubbed his hands together. "Huh…"

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "So?"

"It helped…at least…a little. It seemed like the image went away faster that time."

"Just give it some practice and see if you notice any positive changes," I offered.

"Okay… So, what do I do if I'm outside...around people…and this happens. It has before…"

"You can try wearing a rubber band on your wrist and snap it when the image comes and shout 'stop' in your head, or you can try just the part where you shout 'stop' in your head. Or try grounding yourself."

Ares frowned. "What's grounding?"

"It's a way for you to get back in touch with reality when those images come to you or you have a flashback. It basically forces you out of your head and back into reality by taking note of the world around you. What you would do is force yourself to mentally take note of everything in the environment. Start with your five senses and make yourself list three things that you can observe around you in that moment. Like, 'I see a tree, a woman, and a car over there,' 'I can smell exhaust, barbeque, and my own cologne.' Things like that," I said.

"Hm…"

"So, I've already given you two techniques that you can take home with you and try practicing before our next session. You can also get those books and workbooks on the therapeutic model we are following to educate yourself further. And you'll get to see the psychiatrist today. I also plan on pulling all your guts out emotionally during our sessions, but I won't do that today. Not on our first day. But I thought I should warn you. If you want results fast, we need to go deep fast," I offered.

"Yeesh… You have a point though…" he sighed. "I do want fast results…so I guess we can disembowel me emotionally." He offered a small smile again.

I smiled back. "Sounds good, Ares. I want to see you on Monday. Same time."

He threw a little salute. "Yes ma'am."

There was a knock at my door and Hades let himself in.

"Ares, the psychiatrist can see you now."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Poseidon came to visit me at the end of the day. "Hey Andrea, how are things going?"

"They're going well enough, I suppose," I responded.

"You're still around, so that seems like a good sign," he chuckled. "At least for us."

I grinned back. "I seem to be having some good luck with my clients, so I'm in no hurry to run out of the building screaming and never to be heard from again. Not yet anyway."

"Yes…" he sighed. "There's always the 'yet' to be considered."

I swallowed lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. "I take it a lot of therapists haven't fared so well?"

The God of the sea came over and sat in one of my client seats before my desk. "Not faring so well would be putting it mildly. I'm not here to scare you, Andrea. In fact, doing so would be like shooting myself and all the other Gods in the foot. But you're nice. I like you. And I don't want you to be surprised by being uninformed. This isn't going to be easy. Not by a long shot. You may be having a good time of it now, but don't let that make you over-confident. In time, you'll run into speed bumps. How you manage them will make all the difference."

I could feel cold sweat begin to trickle down my back.

"There have been therapists who managed the bumps and setbacks just fine, but then became overwhelmed when there were too many for them to manage. Some of them quit. Others…lost their minds. Especially the ones Dionysus disclosed to, but he's also the God of madness, so go figure. A handful were…well…um…destroyed."

"Wait what!?" My eyes felt like they were going to shoot out of my head. "Destroyed!?"

"The Gods sometimes…make promises that they don't realize they will be forced to keep. There were a couple of incidents where a Deity in therapy offered to do whatever his or her therapist said to prove his or her Godhood…and…when the therapist told the client to do something 'God-like,' they were incinerated by the exposure to their client in their God form. Ask Dionysus about his mother, Semele, sometime or read The Bacchae…you'll understand what mortals being exposed to the Gods can mean for you. Other times…clients became violent… The therapist never told us that things were escalating and by the time the client snapped…it was too late."

My blood ran cold, but I said nothing. Suffice it to say, Poseidon was scaring me into thinking that I should have just stayed in IT.

"I'm pretty certain all of those unfortunate incidents could have been avoided had we all been kept in the loop. We're here to help. So, please, if you run into any trouble, please ask us for help. Before things get out of hand."

"Right." I nodded. "Thanks for letting me know."

I wanted to go home, hide under my covers, and never come out again.


	27. Poly Patty

A/N: I know…I know… Ya'll thought I was dead, right? _ I'm not. I promise. Life happened. I went on disability, disownment, laid off, and got married all in about a year's time! Woo! But now I'm back and ready to roll! Please R&R

Chapter 27 – Poly Patty

When I got home, Patty was waiting at my door with a pie in her hands.

I quirked an eyebrow at her, "Do you do anything at all during the day?"

"Hello to you too, buttface," she snorted and stuck her tongue out at me.

I shook my head, chuckling softly, "Sorry…rough day at work."

"Aw," she pouted as I unlocked the door and let her in. "What happened?

"Not much…I had a decent session with a client, but then one of my bosses told me some scary stories of clients getting crazy and violent. Suffice it to say, he has me kinda spooked…"

Patty dashed into the kitchen and set the pie in the oven, adjusting the dials to heat it up. "Why would he talk about something so awful?"

I shrugged as I followed her and sat at the dinner table. "I don't know… Maybe he was worried for me. I guess my clientele aren't the most stable."

"Well, can you have someone sit in with you?" she offered.

"I suppose I could always ask my supervisor. It's just hard to tell which clients would go off and which ones wouldn't, you know?" I shrugged again.

"You're smart," she stated. "In matters like this though, trust your gut. If someone feels…off…then they probably are and you might want to ask that supervisor of yours to sit with you so nothing bad happens. You can't predict the future, of course."

"Of course," I echoed. "Maybe I'll talk to Hank tomorrow…"

"Hank?" she parroted back.

"My supervisor," I stated.

"Oh right…" she murmured as she grabbed us some plates and silverware, setting the table while I sat slumped in my chair.

Something struck me then. "Patty…you're here an awful lot. Don't you have…I dunno…a boyfriend?"

Patty grinned as she continued to work. "I have a husband… But our relationship is kind of unique. We spend a lot of time apart."

I tilted my head to the right as I considered her words.

"And, well, I have other people in my life. I guess some people might call it an open marriage."

My jaw dropped. I'd heard of such relationships before, but never knew anyone who managed one. "An open marriage?"

"Yeah, right now I have my husband and a boyfriend I see every so often."

I shook my head. "You're unique, Patty. I'll give you that. One man sounds like enough work for me and I couldn't even manage that."

"Trust me, it's not easy by any means, especially since my boyfriend has another in his life too, but I wouldn't trade my lifestyle for anything."

I had to admit feeling a little jealous. Here I was a therapist all alone and Patty had a husband in her right pocket and a boyfriend in her left. Not that I could fault her for it. She was beautiful, smart, successful, and had a winning personality…

"You look sad, Andrea," Patty's voice broke my personal reverie.

"Oh, no…no no…I'm good, I was just thinking about work again."

Another good thing about being a therapist. We're great at deflecting.

"So," I mused, "How do you manage an open marriage? It sounds complicated."

That's right…get her talking about herself and she won't focus on you!

"Well, all lf the relationships are established on a solid ground of trust…good communication is a must! No liars…no cheaters…"

I let her prattle on like that for a good hour or more before calling it a night and curling up with Arson.

I cried myself to sleep…

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

When I got to work the next day, Hank was standing at my office door, wearing an immaculate gray suit with a matching tie.

"You're five minutes late," he snorted.

"My bad…" I frowned. "I was up late last night."

"You haven't had your coffee yet, have you?" he asked.

I rubbed at my eyes and gave him a quizzical look. "What?"

"You're brutally honest, to the point of being disrespectful, when you're out of caffeine. Drink the cup I left on your desk before I give you rock-stacking duty again," he threatened.

I nodded, trying to hide the shudder that ran the length of my spine at the idea of having to deal with those stupid rocks again. I softened my tone and ventured, "Was there something you needed from me?"

"I wanted to tell you that we'll be spending the morning at my personal office. I have a therapy session at nine o'clock that I would like for you to sit in on. The client has already consented to your presence. Then you can see Dionysus at two. He called at around seven, before you got in, so I talked to him."

I grabbed the cup of coffee on my desk and took a few sips. "How is he?"

Hades shut the door behind himself, closing us off from the outside world. "He said he's hanging in there. His sponsor has been letting him stay at his place to keep an eye on him and they've been carpooling to meetings together. He says the cravings are pretty intense, but being around a sober buddy has been a big help."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good… I really worry about him."

"That makes two of us," the king of the underworld grumbled. "I still haven't said anything to Zeus about his slip up at the bar."

"I really appreciate that and I'm sure Dionysus does too," I offered.

Hades shrugged. "It's not entirely selfless. I certainly don't want to be removed from this realm because of his stupidity."

I grinned wickedly at him. "Oh right… My mistake pegging you for a good guy."

"Whatever," he snarled. "Get your stuff together. I want to be on time for my client and my office is a little ways away from here."

I set my now empty cup of coffee on my desk and moved to grab a pad of paper and some pens.

"So, you were up late last night?" Hades asked suddenly. Despite all of his therapist training, he could not manage to mask the curiosity in his voice.

"Yeah," I replied from the depths of a desk drawer. "I had someone over." I was being intentionally vague. If he was going to be nosey, I was going to make him work for it.

"Oh, that's nice. I wasn't aware you had a social life," he snorted.

"That's not a nice thing to say," I snarled back. "Despite all of your God drama, I do have a life outside of work!"

"So…he was a nice guy, I take it?" Hank asked, blatantly ignoring my complaint.

Uh huh… There we go. Nosey supervisor. He sounded oddly defensive too…

"A girl friend," I corrected him. "And not like that."

"Interesting…" he drawled lazily.

I glanced up at him and gave him my best death glare. "I said 'not like that!'"

Hades held up his hands defensively. "What? I didn't say anything."

"Right," I snorted.

"You're the one who said 'not like that' and you're oddly defensive…" he mused aloud. "Who are you trying to convince here?"

I nearly swallowed my tongue. I did seem defensive, didn't I?

"If you weren't HR, I could totally report you to HR for sexual harassment." I rolled my eyes and stood up, clutching my pad of paper and pens in my hands. "I'm ready to go."


	28. Grief Counselor

A/N: Late again. I know. I'm a bad author. I got sucked into reading The Dresden Files and it's been a bit of an addiction as of late. :P But it has inspired my own writing as I (dare I say it) see a lot of similarities in how Dresden talks about his profession and how Andrea talks about hers. Anyway, read up and review, if you like. Keeps the creative juices flowing!

Chapter 28 – Grief Counselor

We took his Lamborghini to his office. I still wasn't used to being driven in such blatant luxury. I could hardly relax in my seat.

"So, does anyone believe you're suffering from the economy when they see this car?" I asked as we pulled into the parking lot.

"They don't see this car," he replied casually. "They see a thirteen year old blue Volvo. But I need something that helps me get from Point A to Point B very quickly at times."

I almost choked on my laughter.

"You can see my car because I let you," he clarified.

"Oh, I'm honored," I made a mock bow as I exited the passenger side of the car. "Does this mean I can drive us back to Hope?"

He frowned at me. "Not a chance."

"Aw…"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Hank's private office was as impressive as the one he had at Hope, if not moreso. The layout of the lobby was the very definition of fung shui and immediately put one at ease as you entered the room. The walls were a pale blue, not so dark that it made you feel depressed, but also not so glaringly bright that you would feel irritated by it. The chairs were plush and inviting. A radio played classical music softly, adding to the tranquility of the room.

There was one woman sitting in the lobby, waiting for us. She looked to be in her elderly years, her grey hair pinned up in a bun, her white gloved hands folded on top of a light pink cotton skirt that matched her suit top. She beamed when she saw Hades enter.

"Hank…" she sighed. "It's so good to see you."

I watched from the doorway, as he approached his client. He shook her hand gently. "It's good to see you too, Mrs. Jacobs."

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," she smiled again and I noticed the strain around her wrinkled eyes.

"Of course," he offered, still not letting go of her hand. "You know my door is always open to you."

"She's all checked in, Mr. Underwood," came a youthful female voice from behind a desk I just noticed to my right.

A dark-haired woman gave me a blank look as I eyed her from where I was standing.

Hades cleared his throat. "Mrs. Jacobs, this is Andrea, the intern I mentioned on the phone."

I snapped to attention and approached my boss' client and extended my right hand to her. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Jacobs. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to sit in with you both."

Mrs. Jacobs nodded. "Of course. It's no trouble. Hank does such good work for me. It's nice to be able to return a favor."

My boss cleared his throat again. "We both appreciate it, Mrs. Jacobs. If we're all ready, let's head back."

Mrs. Jacobs grabbed her purse from her chair and followed Hank through a door he was holding open for us. As I passed by what I assumed was his receptionist's desk, I noticed her glaring at me with dark green eyes. I must have given her a funny look in response. What was her problem?

I didn't have much time to think on it, as my supervisor grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into the next room without much grace.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"He slipped back into his coma on Wednesday…" Mrs. Jacobs confessed and reached for the tissue box Hades offered to her. "The doctors don't think he's coming back. They say I have to make a decision."

"The doctors can say what they want. The decision is yours alone. You know this," Hank offered gently and firmly.

I sat back in my own chair in my supervisor's private office, trying to keep myself from crying as openly as Mrs. Jacobs. Her sorrow was a nearly tangible force within those four walls and I was practically drowning in it.

"I know… I know it's still my decision. Legally, they can't touch him, but…when they talk about his condition, I just wonder how fair it is to keep him plugged in. He came back that one time. Maybe that was our chance to say goodbye and now that he's gone again… Maybe it is time to let him go."

"He's your husband," my boss commented and then glanced down when Mrs. Jacobs reached to him with her gnarled hands. "He's trusted you with these end of life decisions."

I suppressed the urge to say something when he took those hands in his own and held them firmly. I guess he's not adverse to physical contact with clients… I also noted that it seemed to make Mrs. Jacobs feel better.

"If you feel it is time to say goodbye, then perhaps there's some truth to that."

Mrs. Jacobs nodded, "I think there might be… And I know he'd never want to be a vegetable, but…what if he comes back again? What if I pull the plug and I…I kill him?"

Her voice broke and fresh tears sprang to her reddened eyes. My heart constricted in my chest and I marveled at how Hades was able to control his emotions.

"There's no way for us to know if he'll ever come back again, Mrs. Jacobs… If we do not have that kind of foresight, how can you even think that you would be responsible for killing him by making the decision to honor his request to not remain living as a vegetable?"

Hades' unwavering logic seemed to help Mrs. Jacobs navigate her grief.

"I suppose it doesn't make much sense, does it?" she asked pitifully. "I just feel…so…I don't even know anymore…."

He nodded as if he understood exactly what she meant. "Of course you do. It's a terrible decision that you have to make, since he is no longer able to do it himself."

His client sat quietly for a time, occasionally letting go of one of my supervisor's hands to dab a tissue at her eyes.

After a time, my boss spoke, "Thankfully, you don't have to make the decision today. You have time."

Mrs. Jacobs sighed, "I do… I think I'd like to talk to our priest too and see what he has to say about it."

I looked pointedly at Hades, wondering how he'd respond to that, but he didn't even acknowledge my presence.

"That is a very good idea," he said softly. "In times like these, it is comforting to have the support of our priest and our church behind us."

I was floored. I couldn't even imagine how he must have felt saying such things to his client. If she had any idea who he really was…

"It is a comfort that I am thankful I have these days," she replied. "And thank you again for seeing me on such short notice. I just…needed to get it out. Have someone hear me for once. No one at that hospital seems to understand what listening means…"

Hades gave her a small smile. "That's what we're here for, Mrs. Jacobs. I am glad you called me."

"I am too," she smiled a ghost of a smile and then glanced up at me. "And I hope this helped you with your studies, Andrea."

I inclined my head toward her. "It definitely did. Thank you so much for letting me sit in on your session, Mrs. Jacobs. I hope you make a decision that doesn't cause you so much heartache."

She chuckled knowingly. "Regardless of how I choose, I know there will be heartache, dear. That's the trouble with old age, I suppose. No easy choices. But as long as I have my handsome therapist here, I'll manage somehow."

Hades looked stunned for a moment as Mrs. Jacobs tugged on his sleeve and chuckled at his discomfort.

"Mrs. Jacobs," he admonished her somewhat playfully.

"Oh come on now, Hank, don't be such a stiff. You know I'm not serious. Let an old, soon-to-be widowed woman have her fun."

My boss smiled indulgently. "Of course, Mrs. Jacobs. Shall I get your purse for you? Hold the door open? Open your car door?"

"Oh please!" she admonished him back. "You're terrible!"

Hades laughed and held the door open for her anyway. "Same time next week then? Or sooner, if you need to?"

I watched Mrs. Jacobs walk out the door. "Yes, I'll let you know if I need to see you sooner. Take care both of you."

After she left, Hades let the door close. "So, what did you think of that?"

I blanched. "You were…human?"

One of his delicate black brows arched up as he approached my chair, "Beg pardon?"

"I mean, you…you weren't all depressing and somber. You made her laugh, but you were honest and kind, yet firm at times. I don't know. I guess I was expecting this to be really heavy, and, while at times it was, you seemed to breathe life into it. I think you gave her hope."

Hades pulled up a chair and sat across from me. "That's the whole point of grief therapy. There is enough suffering in this world. The least we can do is instill hope in our clients. Without hope…humanity is doomed."

"And so are the Gods…" I replied. "You encouraged her to lean on her priest…why not the Gods?"

Hades closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to rein in some warring emotions, before he spoke. "That would be considered a dual relationship…to be her therapist and her God. As much as I miss having followers, as few as they were, her heart is with her own God and His Son. I can survive without her worship. She could not survive without her faith."

I nodded silently. I honestly had no idea what I could say…

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I got a call that night from Loreli, one of my closest friends next to Patty.

"Hello?" I responded, petting Arson, who was currently occupying my entire lap and cuddling Mister Whiskers.

"Dude! Andrea? Where the hell have you been?" came a voice on the other end of the line.

"Loreli?" I asked.

"Duh! Who else calls you these days?" she snorted.

"Ouch."

"Seriously though. What the heck? Where have you been?" she repeated.

"Working…" I suddenly felt uneasy…almost guilty…for seeing Patty so often recently and completely neglecting the rest of my social life.

"Did you blow up all of the computers in your department or something? You were working well before you dropped off the face of the planet."

"Computers? No, I…" I realized suddenly that I hadn't even updated Loreli on my career change. Wow. "I'm actually in the counseling department now."

"What!?" came a shout of surprise through the receiver. "You got a job in your field?"

I smiled nervously, "I did, yeah. It's been a big adjustment."

"That makes sense now…"

I felt a massive sense of relief as Loreli's mood shifted away from painfully suspicious.

"Yeah," I continued, hoping to appease her further. "It's been crazy, but my schedule will be more predictable from now on."

"Good!" she chirped. "Do you think you can make it to a dinner on Saturday…for my birthday?"

I slapped my forehead. I had almost forgotten her birthday? I really had been occupied… "Yes! Of course!"

"Awesome! See you then!"


End file.
